


Watching Over The Skies - Brown

by Jacen



Series: Watching Over The Skies [2]
Category: Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey, Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Aerial Combat, Alternate Universe - Pern Fusion, Alternate Universe - Pernese Dragons, Battle, Blood and Gore, Bugs & Insects, Canon-Typical Violence, Dragon Riders, F/F, Femslash, Hurt/Comfort, gonna tag more as I post things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-09-14 07:26:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 38,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9168271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jacen/pseuds/Jacen
Summary: Overwatch Weyr has fallen to the Talon Hold uprising.  Weyrleader Fareeha is going to have to stay one step ahead of the holders, the technocrafters and her fellow dragonriders to save her people and set this right.





	1. Scorched

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is the second part of the Watching Over The Skies series, my Dragonriders of Pern/Overwatch mashup that I sort of stumbled into finishing for NaNoWriMo. It's unlikely you'll know what's going on here unless you've read Gold, which is part one of the series. Here's a quick explanation of Pern:
> 
> Pern is an earthlike world circled by a Red Star. The Red Star occasionally orbits closer to the world, and when this happens an organism known as 'Thread' falls. It is awful, all-consuming, acidic and hungry. The primary defenses that the people of Pern have against Thread are the dragons and their kin, the fire lizards and the whers. All dragons and their kin come in five colors: gold, bronze, brown, blue and green. Of these colors, all golds and greens are female, while all bronzes, browns and blues are male. Humans bond with dragons in a process called Impression, and the dragons Impressions trend along sexuality divisions. Heterosexual females tend to bond to gold, heterosexual males tend to bond to bronze, any men can bond to brown, blue and green, and any women can bond to green. Dragons' names end in -th, and most male riders shorten their given names with an apostrophe when they Impress. They combat Thread in the skies, by chewing a phosphorous rock called firestone and breathing fire to burn it before it reaches the ground. Firestone renders female dragons sterile, so gold riders, whose dragons lay clutches and produce the next generation of dragons, generally fight Thread with flamethrowers instead of firestone. The psychic bond between a dragon and their rider is intense and deep-when dragons mate, their riders sleep together as well, and when dragon or rider dies, the other follows them into death. Dragons can also carry their riders between, teleporting them from place to place in an instant.
> 
> Whers, generally non-flying, are colored and bonded in the same way as dragons. They name themselves for their riders, ending in -sk. They combat Thread by eating it when it hits the ground. Fire lizards are about the size of a cat, and bond themselves to whoever feeds them first. They can also chew firestone and flame thread. They are often used as messengers and pets for those who can afford to trade for an egg or who find a nest.
> 
> Dragons and their riders live in Weyrs, which are locations founded around volcanic caverns. Weyrs are large places, housing dozens of dragons. They generally have a large bowl area, which contains a pen for animals which are fed to the dragons, as well as areas for working on military drill exercises and taking care of dragons. Entrances and exits to the caverns, the place where the support staff of the Weyr live and work, are all over this level, as is the hatching grounds, a volcanically warmed sand cavern in which gold dragons lay and nurture their eggs. There are also infirmaries, mess halls, bathing springs and similar facilities on the lowest level. Higher up are the individual weyrs, where individual or paired dragons live with their riders.
> 
> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy part two!

The sun warmed her armor even as the wind cooled it. Fareeha bent over Raptorath’s neck, looked down at the cup shaped Weyr below, and smiled. For all of her childhood doubts and weyrling fears, the sky had always been where she was intended to be. She took a deep breath of the cold, clear air, then checked her face guard. 

_I have told Caudeth that we go,_ Raptorath told her, his rich mental voice bubbling with affection for the gold. 

Fareeha’s grin broadened. She was certain Angela was tearing her hair out with the hundred and one tasks Zarya had left her with (or that she’d self-assigned). That was what the woman did, to the point of exhaustion. _Tell her to let Hers know that she should eat and nap before we attack._

Raptorath pumped his wings and Fareeha looked behind them, confirming that the wing followed. _Hers replies that you must be careful._

_Order the wing between,_ Fareeha relayed to her dragon. The goldriders concern was valid, but she was not fighting the insects alone this time. They would be victorious and she knew she would return in much better condition. _To the hall!_

Between was crushingly cold, but Fareeha had become accustomed over the years. She closed her eyes to the darkness, thinking of Angela’s golden hair instead, and only opened them again when she felt the warmth of the sun on her face. Below, Aleksath bugled a greeting. Raptorath took no urging to dive to meet her.

 _You’re soft,_ Fareeha chided him as he landed, loping to the queen’s side. Aleksath regarded him with whirling blue eyes until he shoved his shoulder against hers. The gold chuffed at him and he straightened himself up. On the ground, Zarya raised an eyebrow at Fareeha. “I don’t tell him to do this,” she reminded the Weyrwoman. They both looked to the sky as the rest of the wing appeared, the dragons angling towards the ground.

“Just a romantic?” Zarya replied, offering Fareeha a hand down. The weyrleader slid off of her dragon, clapping Zarya on the back as she made contact with the ground. 

“He is.” Fareeha nodded, her dragon huffing and whistling behind her. “It’s embarrassing.”

“And it is only him who is the romantic?” Zarya fell into step beside her, handing over a hastily scribbled surveillance report and a map. Fareeha was happy for the faceplate hiding her dopey grin. She was supposed to be the steadfast, focused weyrleader today. Her riders seeing her blushing like a teenager would do her no favours. 

“Fareeha, hey,” someone called from the hall entrance, saving her from Zarya’s teasing. The weyrleader looked up, catching sight of a much too skinny technocrafter leaning on the massive protective hall doors. She had one of the technocrafter slates in one hand and a drinking skin in the other.

“Journeyman Hana.” Fareeha stuck her paperwork under one arm, then ruffled the girl's hair with her free hand. “You look very well,” she said. The crafter looked away from her device, half-smiling as she gave Fareeha a once over.

“Your knot’s different,” the girl observed. 

“I’m the weyrleader. As I told you last time I was here.”

“Oh. Yeah, I don’t actually listen to what you say.”

Fareeha shook her head and patted Hana on the shoulder. “Are they almost finished with the processors?”

“Yeah, it’s just the rig for the dragon giving them trouble now.” The crafter glanced at Zarya. “Is it time for the evac?”

Zarya gestured to Fareeha. “Reports suggest the main force will reach the hall in a few hours. Where is the mastercrafter?”

Hana’s eyes skipped side to side. “In her office?”

Zarya huffed. “And I will also find Sombra there?”

“Yeah,” Hana said, raising her eyebrows. “Like always.”

Fareeha shook her head. The harper’s fast friendship with the master crafter made her uneasy, but she couldn’t quite pin down why. “Go say hello to Raptorath? He misses you.”

Hana shrugged one shoulder, then pushed off of the wall and ambled towards the dragon. Zarya watched her for a moment, then gestured to Fareeha. “When it is time to Search for Candidates for Caudeth’s clutch…”

“Raptorath is adamant Hana will stand,” Fareeha replied, with a nod. “After you.” She waited for Zarya to pass her, then followed her into the hall. At Telgar she’d visited the miners and the smiths as a matter of course, but even those technologically advanced halls had nothing on these southern technocrafters. The floor was deeply slanted, covered in coarse fabric that their boots gripped easily. All along the main corridor were doors unlike any others they’d seen, smooth as eggshells. They opened not by swinging, but by being gently pushed inwards and to the side. The place smelled like warm linen, only some of the jungle heat following them in.

The hall was lit from the ceiling by some form of glass piping, inset into the gleaming walls. Every ten steps or so, a larger version of the tablet Hana had been carrying protruded from the wall, displaying images of the world beyond the hall. Crafters were transporting boxes past them, carefully labelled and sealed. As they walked by a wide set of double doors Zarya waved at the people inside, smiling when a crafter nudged Mei and pointed out the passing dragonriders. The woman glanced up from her writing to return Zarya’s wave, then motioned the other crafter over and started putting the last of her things into boxes. 

They turned down a hallway that was more brightly lit than the rest. The technocrafter logo had been painted on the slightly open door at the end of it. “Master Satya?” Zarya called, reaching out to push the door open ahead of them. “Are you ready to leave?”

The room inside was nearly bare. Two boxes were stacked on the floor next to the door, but aside from bookshelves and a desk, everything that could be packed was gone. The mastercrafter was perched on the edge of the desk, her hands folded formally in her lap when the dragonriders entered. The travelling cloak she had draped about herself looked strange on her-Satya was normally not so rumpled. Standing by the bookshelf was the harper, Sombra, her fingers dancing over one of the technocrafter tablets as though she was born to it. She looked as she always did-well kept and intricately styled, her travelling clothes cut perfectly to her shape in direct contrast to Satya’s.

“My core equipment has not been packed,” Satya said, her gaze firmly to Zarya’s left. With anyone else, the visual dodge would have been an insult but the master crafter had made it clear that it was easier to collect her thoughts when she was not being stared down. “The apprentices have been delayed by the other projects.” 

“It is too late,” Zarya told her, her mouth set into a grim line. “You must come with me, Master Satya. When the wing has done its work, we will return and unlock the hall, but until then we must assure your safety.” 

Satya frowned deeply until Sombra stepped between them, laying a hand on the crafter’s arm. “I think she’s right,” the harper intoned gravely. “You should power everything down, then we can go. We’ll be safe, you’ll have your notes, right? And the dragonriders will take care of everything, won’t you?”

There was something snide in the Harper’s tone that set Fareeha on edge and she noted that Satya’s eyes went wide as well. She opened her mouth to question the harper’s words, then Zarya interrupted. She nodded and said, “Go and do that. I will be your personal escort to the Weyr. Your safety is very important.” 

Sombra beamed at Fareeha, whose mouth snapped shut. “And will the wingleader start the attack while we’re finishing up?”

Fareeha glanced at Zarya, still not liking the harper’s tone. The weyrwoman nodded to her. “You are dismissed. The crafters are ready. Go, lead the wing. We will be fine.”

Satya slid off of the edge of the desk, pulling at her cloak as Fareeha nodded to Zarya’s order. “Be safe,” the brownrider said to all of them, stepping back and out of the office to go.

She didn’t hear her move-Sombra was suddenly keeping pace with her, her smile bright as they walked the length of the short hallway. As they reached the end, the harper patted her on the arm. “And don’t worry, dragonrider. The hall is fireproof. You wouldn’t be able to burn it down if you tried,” she said brightly. Fareeha’s heart sank with remembered guilt and she paused, watching Sombra turn the corner and meander off towards the crafters equipment with no further comment.

\-------------

Raptorath crunched through the firestone, echoing the bitter taste back to Fareeha. _The swarm moves below, Mine,_ he informed her. The dragon’s tempered emotions leaked over to her and she was proud to find no fear in him. They had worked hard to move past the terror of nearly dying in the mandibles of the creatures. The dragon had made a better recovery than Fareeha-she still woke in a panic some nights, though that had become easier to deal with when Angela was beside her. 

_Oxtoth and Dedeyth to the point. Provoke them with a quick blast, then split and reform with the wing. Wing to be ready for immediate retaliation._ She rattled off the orders crisply, relying on her dragon’s superior eyesight to give the wingriders the finer details. _Confirm Aleksath and Morth are en route to Overwatch._

The dragon took a wide arc around the rear of the wing. _Morth has gone. Aleksath is loaded and will go soon._ He swept them back towards the leading edge. Fareeha watched Oxtoth and Dedeyth break ranks and dive. _Lacroith returns._

Fareeha blinked, confused that Lacroith had been gone at all, then Oxtoth breathed fire over the jungle. The trees shook and as Dedeyth followed after her, the swarm exploded into the sky. They moved in jerks and starts, as though their wings were having trouble pushing them forward after their initial leap. Most were without the fuzz of the freshly hatched, sleek and reflective as polished stone. A mist of their froth trailed behind them, coating their legs and backs. She could see the sun gleaming off of their razored mouthparts as they pushed themselves into the sky. There were so many of them that she lost sight of Oxtoth and Dedeyth for a moment, though Raptorath reassured her that they were moving too fast for the insects to fixate on them. 

_Scorch them,_ Fareeha ordered and Raptorath roared as he tucked his wings. She heard answering bellows behind them, then held herself low to the dragon’s neck, hand already in the firestone bag in preparation for the reload. Her cares beyond the immediate future slipped away as Raptorath flamed and they became the well oiled combat machine they were so famed as. Raptorath was powerful, deadly as he twisted and turned through the fight. Fareeha kept tight to his body, trusting the dragon to know when to burn and when to dodge. She paid attention to the other riders instead, listening for screams or keens that would indicate an injury. 

When she broke free of the scrum, sweating and ash-streaked, she demanded a report. To her surprise, Raptorath immediately told her that Caudeth had sent word that the firestone supply was cut off. The rote responses of the other wingriders were mentally ticked off of Fareeha’s list as she tried to puzzle out what Caudeth could mean by that. Cut off? She’d overseen the delivery and setup of the staging area herself. They’d had plenty, more than enough to supply them for this skirmish.

 _Aleksath's requests assistance,_ Raptorath informed her, turning them back towards the hall. Fareeha could just see gold wings flapping over the trees, a sight even more confusing than Caudeth’s announcement. 

_She isn’t gone? Where’s Morth?_ Fareeha glanced back at the wing as they collectively rose, reloaded, then descended on the insects again. _Send Dedeyth to assist Aleksath,_ she ordered, checking her own firestone supply. She still had a half load, but the insects were not stopping their advance. _Switch the wing to fast strafing, concentrate on protecting Aleksath,_ she added, waiting for the orders to be relayed. When Dedeyth and J’Cree had started descending and the other wingriders adjusted their flight paths, she urged Raptorath into a wider swing and pulled out her spyglass. 

Along the perimeter they’d established, a swath of forest smouldered. It wasn’t dry enough to burn, but the smoke poured into the sky and the forest below. She took Raptorath in for a low dive, peering between the leaves, bracing herself in case they were ambushed. The insects still moved through the forest and she wondered if J’Cree’s theory of a decentralized command structure might be true. Insects could be impressively martial when they needed to be. She hadn’t attributed that sort of intelligence to the adversary, but seeing them flow towards the hall, she was willing to revisit her opinion. 

They flew high once more, giving the wing a generous amount of room as they passed over to inspect Zarya and J’Cree’s progress. The hall’s doors were sealed and none of the crafters were visible outside-a bad sign considering the last of them should have been loaded onto Aleksath before the hall was sealed. Zarya was wrenching on her dragon’s flight gear with one hand, hurling crafter’s crates from the transport platform into the jungle with the other. J’Cree was doing something at Aleksath’s chest-it looked like he was cutting away her straps. _Does Dedeyth need us?_ She asked, bringing them curving back towards the trapped gold.

 _There are more!_ Raptorath’s response made no sense until they straightened, heading directly across the clearing. Beyond Aleksath and the riders struggling to free her, Fareeha could make out insects the size of men lumbering through the forest. 

_Full assault, we have to protect Aleksath,_ Fareeha responded. _Tight formation, full flame._ Their dwindling firestone was a secondary concern against the worry that the gold would be devoured in front of them. Dragons bellowed as they swerved to intercept, the wing scattering to lay down a suppressing sheet of flame between the gold dragon and the insects. Fareeha saw the first wave of the things rear away from the fire before Raptorath had to climb once again. _Keep it coming!_

Zarya aimed one of the crates at the fire and it burst in the forest, bringing down a swath of the flying creatures. More filled the gap and as the wing lined up its next assault, the bugs made their move. Those that could only move along the ground lurched over the burning vegetation, killing the flame with their bodies and leaving their corpses as a bridge for their brethren as the died. Those that could fly flung themselves at the dragons and the riders, emitting a high pitched hiss in midair.

Fareeha brought Raptorath about in time to see Zarya catch one of the insects in flight, hurling it back at its fellows. J’Cree stepped up next to her, knife at the ready, at exactly the wrong moment. A bug that had been on a trajectory to catch Zarya across the throat took him at the ear and his screams reached the riders in the heights. Fareeha felt her throat close, her mind trying to instantly reject what she saw in front of her. When the struggling man went limp under his attacker and his dragon howled in sorrow, there was no further denial. Dedeyth jumped clumsily into the air and in a burst of cold, he vanished between, following his rider into death.

Raptorath held his cry, breathing fire instead to buy Zarya time to tear Aleksath’s straps and saddle right off of her neck. Fareeha dug her fingers into his hide, fighting to focus on the task at hand. _Burn him, Raptorath. They can’t have him,_ she said, and the dragon did as she asked. The insect that had been devouring her friend died in an inferno of dragonfire. Zarya clung to Aleksath with hands and knees, the gold taking off in spite of the array of insects taking bites out of her flanks and feet. She shook them one by one, green ichor flowing over her golden hide as she rose into the sky. 

The swarm closed over Fareeha. Raptorath responded to their assault by picking up speed. Fareeha thrashed the insects away from her, taking cuts and bites as she threw them off. _Aleksath's says we cannot go back. The holders have attacked Caudeth's and Wilheth’s, and they will attack us if we go._ Raptorath’s voice was strained with emotion-concern for his mate, sorrow for his fallen friend and the echoes of Fareeha’s building anger. She could feel her connection to him slipping in and out as the venom burned in her bloodstream.

She considered their options, clinging to the rage instead of the horror and pain. Raptorath craned his neck back for more firestone and she fed him what she had left. _Where is Lacroith_ , she asked her dragon as he spewed fire at the encroaching insects. Suspicion was starting to grow. 

_Gone,_ Raptorath answered. Fareeha went still in her fury. The holders uprising had the technocrafters and a dragonrider at their disposal. Overwatch was no longer safe. The wing would have to flee to another Weyr and hope they would be taken as refugees. Perhaps a sympathetic enough location would even send a force back with them to restore order. 

_Tell Aleksath’s we must go to Ista._ Fareeha considered telling Caudeth, but knew that the dragon was not very cagey. If Lacroith was as slippery as his rider, they would get the location of the wing out of her. _Tell Caudeth we will come back as soon as we can._ When they returned, Caudeth could know. 

_The wing is out of firestone,_ Raptorath told her. _I have told them not to attempt resupplying. When do we go?_

Fareeha looked out over the dragons who followed her, then back towards the hall. Insects swarmed over the sealed doors, the flying creatures whirling overhead of them. She gritted her teeth, weighed her options, and forced herself to take the choice that was best for her riders. _Now. Tell Aleksath’s to give the order to go between to Ista._

She lowered her head as they entered the freezing blackness, hoping she hadn’t made a terrible mistake. 

\-------------

It had been so long since Fareeha had set foot in the north she was almost startled from dragonback at the noise when she emerged from between. Every one of her open wounds ached with the echoes of the cold and her eyes burned with held back tears. She looked down at Ista’s brilliantly lit watchposts and the messengers already racing to the Weyr and bit her cheek. They would be harsh enough on she and Zarya, she didn’t need to show any further vulnerability.

Zarya lead the wing down, diving towards a far point on Ista’s open bowl. _Aleksath’s says we must sit in formation,_ Raptorath informed his rider, swooping into place next to the enormous gold. He stood at her side, not his usual affectionate self but a stalwart, sturdy presence, as they waited for Ista’s response to their arrival. 

“We should’ve gone back, mate,” Fareeha heard someone mutter behind her. She turned her head, picking the diminutive greenrider out of the pack. 

“Lena.” Fareeha saw the woman’s eyes go wide in her visor. 

“Don’t mean to be insubordinate,” Lena said, shrugging a shoulder. “Just…the riders we left there need us, innit? What’s going to happen to Angie and the eggs without us there to help?”

Zarya grunted, still facing forward. “This will not take so long,” she said. “When the sun rises we will be home. Caudeth and her clutch will be safe. They are good riders. Strong. They will know we are coming for them.”

Fareeha looked at her as Lena slouched in her saddle, hoping that Zarya was right. She would carry on, for her wing and her Weyr, but already she could feel J’Cree’s death weighing heavily on her shoulders. She wanted this over, to crawl into Angela’s bed and rest alongside her. To rise in the morning and rebuild what was lost. To grieve properly.

A brown dragon soared towards them, landing just in front of Aleksath. He gave a vague salute. “I am Wingleader D’Rus of Roth. Who are you and what business do you have here?”

Zarya narrowed her eyes, then removed her helmet. “I am Weyrwoman Zarya of Aleksath, of Overwatch Weyr. We will speak to your weyrleader.”

D’Rus nearly spoke, then leaned back in his saddle. “Overwatch Weyr?” He asked incredulously, looking over the assembled wing. “Is this your entire Weyr?”

“We will speak to your weyrleader,” Zarya repeated, fixing him with a stern glare. “Will he come to us, or do we go to him?”

“He’s...they’re having a meeting,” D’rus said, his eyes catching on Fareeha’s knot. He looked from her to Zarya, his nose wrinkling. “This way.” His dragon turned about and hopped into the air. 

_Aleksath’s orders us with her,_ Raptorath said. 

Fareeha stiffened her posture in the saddle. _Follow,_ she urged.

\-------------

A theme ran on as day became night and they flew from Weyr to Weyr. The Overwatch riders would be welcomed by pandemonium. They would be greeted. Their story heard. The weyrleaders would convene in a separate room, then one or both would emerge to firmly usher the refugees out. The reasons given were many, but the undertone was the same-we already got rid of you once, we are not taking you back. 

Fort was their last chance. Lena tightened Fareeha’s braids. Fareeha fixed Zarya’s leathers. Zarya paid one of the weyrfolk a few marks to make sure the wing got some klah and bread to share amongst themselves. It was the middle of the night, but their determination kept them focused on the approaching end of their journey. The Fort Weyrleaders were roused by their watchrider, asking for a few ticks to prepare before the Overwatch Weyrleaders would be invited in. 

They didn’t require the wing to sit in formation any longer. From the moment they’d landed some of the riders had been stretched out next to their dragons, catching some sleep. Others played cards or fiddled with their equipment. Fareeha was proud of their endurance in spite of the situation they’d found themselves in. Their trust in their leadership reinforced her own will. She had to be the weyrleader her wingriders believed her to be.

“I will be glad when this is over,” Zarya murmured, coming to stand alongside her. They watched W’ton and Lena bicker over their game of cards for a moment. 

“I just want to know they’re alright.” Fareeha looked at Zarya, her eyes darting away when she saw the pain cross the weyrwoman’s face.

“They will be. They must be.” Zarya looked up as the messenger rider landed, gesturing to them. “Are you ready, Weyrleader Fareeha?”

“No,” Fareeha answered with a humorless smile. “But I will stand with you anyway.” Zarya clasped her shoulder, nodding firmly.

They followed the messenger to the weyrwoman’s ledge, Aleksath and Raptorath depositing them there, then flying a short distance off to rest. The weyrleader, T’Pon, lead them into the meeting area. Unlike the other Weyrs, all of the riders of rank were present. Junior Weyrwomen, Wingleaders and Weyrlingmasters had seated themselves at the table and all regarded the arriving Overwatch riders with resentment when they paused at the front of the room.

“Tell us why you’re here.” Ramona sat at the head of the table, her attention fixed on Zarya. “Why now. And what you expect of us.”

Zarya folded her hands and breathed slowly through her nose. She focused on Ramona, lifting her chin and straightening her back. “Overwatch Weyr has been compromised,” she intoned gravely. “Holders have taken dragonriders hostage. We need help. Additional riders, supplies, a harper. We will pay for whatever we are offered. Once the Weyr is ours again, we will need your support in prosecuting Lord Gabriel.”

Ramona set her elbows on the table. “Where is Angela?”

Fareeha frowned. “Captive at the Weyr.”

T’Pon cocked his head. “Captive? Are you certain she was not part of this ‘coup’?”

Zarya’s eyebrows knitted with confusion. “You believe she is involved.”

“It would not surprise me in the least,” Ramona said. “If this is a leadership struggle, we must decline to take part.”

“How....it is not a leadership struggle!” Fareeha said, exasperated. “We need your assistance to rescue her and the riders with her. They are held hostage right now, by holders.”

“As you say. But it is frankly insane to think we would believe that. How could holders overwhelm a Weyr of dragonriders? What sort of fool would let that happen?”

Zarya looked struck by the other weyrwoman’s words. “We were fighting a new enemy when they attacked,” she explained.

“The ‘insects’ you barraged the halls about not so long ago. Which spring up from Thread, and have not been seen anywhere else on Pern.” Ramona’s look was smug. “Angela may not have been suited for life in the North, but if you truly fear her overtaking you this much, weyrwoman, there is nothing we can do for you. Making up wild accusations to force us to confront her is not going to work.”

“This is not about Angela,” Zarya said, her hands flexing. The day had stripped away her ability to restrain her emotions. Her frustration was very evident. “This is about our duty as dragonriders and their duty as holders. This is about a lord holder leading his people in assaulting dragonriders and kidnapping crafters to force us out of our own Weyr.”

“Zarya,” Ramona said, making the name sound like something slimy. “Such a thing has never happened. It is impossible to imagine it ever will. If you are so incapable of leading your own Weyr, so intimidated by a lord holder, perhaps it is time to reconsider your status as weyrwoman.”

“I did not come here to be lectured,” Zarya snarled, pushing her hands down on the table. It creaked under her weight. “I came for help for my riders and my weyrfolk. I am a dragonrider, a goldrider, I am one of you!”

“You are nothing like us,” T’pon said, standing tall. The wingleaders rose from their seats. “Your Weyr is a disgrace and this petty foolishness has been allowed to disrupt our sleep for too long. You have our answer. Solve your own problem, Zarya of Aleksath.”

“I am weyrwoman,” Zarya said. Something in the table crunched. “Do not speak to me like some empty headed weyrling.”

Ramona rose as well, the junior goldriders with her. “Your presence will be tolerated for an hour while your wing prepares to leave, but if you remain beyond that time you will be prosecuted.”

Zarya looked from the weyrwoman to the weyrleader incredulously. “Very well,” she said, pushing down once more. The table groaned, then cracked in half. She let it drop, watching as the Fort riders leapt out of the way. Digging in her pocket, she pulled out a wad of marks, dropping them onto the snapped wood. “For your table.” Fareeha fell into step with her as she walked out.

In the hallways, recently awakened riders scrambled to get out of their way. Sneers and jokes clearly intended for them to hear marked their passage, until they finally reached an exit from the caverns and walked into the cold night air. Their dragons waited, eyes whirling yellow with discontent.

“Now what,” Fareeha said, running a hand over Raptorath’s head knobs. The dragon crooned sleepily at her. 

“We go back. Try to talk sense. If they do not listen...we will think of something.” 

A footstep behind Aleksath drew both of their attention. “We are leaving,” Fareeha said, sounding far more exhausted than she wanted to. She did not want to fight some puffed up wingrider who thought they could take advantage of her tiredness to ‘put her in her place’.

“I know. I want to come too.” The speaker emerged from behind the dragon-a youth with braided hair, dressed in harper blue. His knot marked him as an apprentice to his craft and a candidate for Impression. “I’m from Talon Hold. I know the people there. I might be able to help.”

“Lucio?” Zarya peered at him. “You are taller now.”

He shrugged a shoulder. “Yeah. So? How about it? Take me back with you, let me talk to them?”

“The hall will not mind you leaving?” Fareeha asked, tapping his crafter knot.

He looked at it, then unstrung the candidate knot from his shoulder. “I’ll write them a letter,” he said, dropping the white rope on the ground.


	2. Compromises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dragonriders return to the Weyr to deal with Lord Gabriel's coup, but he has a few surprises of his own.

Fareeha lay between Raptorath’s forelegs, resting her cheek on one of them. She unbraided her hair in slow, exhausted movements, watching the sunrise with bleary eyes. She was the only one awake. Even Lucio had passed out mid drumbeat not too long ago. Zarya lay curled against Aleksath’s side, her hand against the gold’s chest. The rest of the wing had made themselves similar arrangements, sleeping on or next to their dragons in what had once been the grounds of a failing cothold. It was long since overgrown and far to the east of the Weyr. Likely safe from both bugs and the machinations of the lord holder.

She thought of J’Cree and R’Hardt, permitting herself some tears. The dragons had keened for Wilheth as they landed at this temporary refuge and it had been too much for her. Fareeha had felt like the walking dead as she ordered the wing through their paces, giving all she had left to make them feel like there was still someone in command. She’d been numb as J’Rat revealed some skins of wine he’d bartered at Fort, had confiscated all but one with the promise he could have them back once they were home. It was a meaningless flex of her authority but the riders had not objected, just teased J’Rat as though everything was normal as they passed the wine among themselves. 

That was what she wanted for them. To feel normal, though they had lost two brothers and two well respected dragons mere hours apart. They deserved leaders who were strong enough to endure. It would inspire them to do so as well, and they would present a strong front when they returned to the Weyr. 

_Wilheth would have talked._ Fareeha closed her eyes and pressed her face closer to Raptorath, his grief stinging her. _Dedeyth would have laid there next to us. His would speak with you, Mine. We would be very warm._

_We would,_ she answered, combing her fingers through her hair. R’Hardt would have bolstered the wing with a rousing speech, walked among them, clapped hands on their shoulders and given them an extra wineskin. He’d have sat with her and Zarya and made outrageous plans until they came up with something that would actually work. She would have had J’Cree to dissect what had happened and where they’d gone wrong. He’d complain about how old her armor was, how he always had to patch her up. She’d make him promise her the leather for a new set when he was back to butchering.

She permitted herself more tears. They were gone. She had to focus on retaining what was left. Ana. Angela. The wing. The Weyr.

She drifted into a troubled sleep.  


\-------------

Zarya’s broad hand clasped her shoulder, rousing her quickly. “What is it?” Fareeha asked, pushing herself up to a sitting position. None of the others were moving, though daylight was upon them.

The Weyrwoman crouched alongside her and silently handed her a piece of parchment. Fareeha accepted it, realizing that Mei’s flit, Snowball,had perched on the goldriders knee. Zarya ran her fingers along the little blue’s back and it crooned at her. Fareeha opened the note, leaning back against Raptorath.

_Zarya,_

_Sombra and many of the crafters have locked down the hall. She wants me to tell you that Lord Gabriel will meet with you in the weyrbowl at any time to negotiate._

_Please be safe._

_Love, Mei_

Her jaw tightened. “What do we do?”

Zarya exhaled harshly. “We negotiate. There is nothing else. He has the hall. He has two goldriders and a bronze hostage. Fighting will not go well for us.” She hummed to the tiny blue, and he hummed back to her. “Once everyone is awake, we go.”

“We should wake them,” Fareeha said. “No more waiting. Get it over with, meet with him fresh and ready.”

Zarya wiped her hand over her mouth, heaving a sigh. “You are right,” she said, glancing back at the wingriders. “Should anyone stay here? In case?”

Fareeha nodded. “Lena,” she said, glancing back at the greenrider, currently sprawled along Oxtoth’s side, one arm thrown across her eyes. “If Amelie is working with Lord Gabriel, Lena could be unpredictable.”

“I did not know they were so close.”

Shoulder rising in a mild shrug, Fareeha turned back to Zarya. “I’m not sure they are anymore, but I would feel better with her here.”

“What is our plan?” The flit launched off of Zarya’s knee as she crossed her legs.

“I am not a negotiator.” Fareeha folded her hands, wishing she could trade places with Angela or Ana. They would know how to handle this. They had the words and the training, at least more than she did.

Zarya nodded. “Then we will talk, and listen. We will make a deal with him.” She scrubbed her fingers through her hair. “No more dragonriders die today. I do not care what he asks for.”

Fareeha’s head bobbed. “I agree,” she said. 

The Weyrwoman rolled out her shoulders. “Let’s get to work.”

Fareeha got to her feet, offering Zarya a hand up. “I’ll talk to Lena,” she said once the weyrwoman was standing. “You wake the rest.” Zarya nodded, moving off to jostle J’Rat. Fareeha approached Lena, who kicked one leg and rolled harder against Oxtoth. “Lena. Wake up.”

The answering grumble was incoherent, conveying a vague ‘not right now’. Fareeha prodded the greenrider in the hip with her boot until Lena groaned and reached for one of Oxtoth’s wings to use as a shield. The dragon chuffed at her, moving the wing out of reach. “Sleeping,” Lena muttered, covering her head with both arms.

“We’re moving out, wingrider, and you have special orders.”

“When don’t I have special orders,” Lena mumbled belligerently into her jacket. 

“Lena.” Fareeha bent at the waist, taking the greenrider by her jacket collar and raising her into a sitting position. “You need to listen to me.”

Lena groaned and let her arms drop back to her sides. The look she gave Fareeha wasn’t the petulance she expected. It was pained, an expression that went beyond the grief of losing her wingmates, and tinged with fear. “Whatcha need?” she sighed, shoving her gloved hand through her wild hair.

“You’re staying here with the harper. He needs protection, we can’t bring him with us until we know it’s safe.” 

Lena’s expression conveyed many things, chief among them how much she did not believe that reasoning. “I know she’s there,” she mumured, her shoulders slouching. “You can just tell me it’s cause of Amelie.”

Fareeha clenched her jaw. “It is. She’s probably working with the holders.” 

“Are you leaving me here because she might come after me? Or because I might go off with her?” 

Fareeha could tell there was no good answer to that question. “Because we don’t want you compromised,” she said, frowning as Lena’s shoulders sagged. The rider leaned back into her dragon, looking up at Fareeha with a disappointed expression.

“I’ll stay. Not because yer right.” Lena tapped her knot with one hand. “Because of this. I’d never turn on the Weyr, Fareeha. Didn’t even have a harsh word for ‘em when they transferred me south.”

The weyrleader nodded, holding out a hand to Lena. The greenrider took it, clasping firmly. “W’Ton can keep you informed about what’s happening,” Fareeha told her. “You can join us once we’ve finished this.”

Lena nodded, but did not let go of Fareeha’s hand. “Just...promise me one thing, Fareeha?”

The weyrleader crouched next to her, watching the conflict play across her face. “What is it?”

“Whatever happens, whatever she does...there’s a good person in there. She’s just really hurting. I know how she comes off…”

Fareeha exhaled slowly. “As long as she doesn’t harm someone again, I will try to make sure she’s only grounded, not hurt.”

Lena nodded. “I’ll help with her. Figuring out what’s going on in her head and all. Once it’s done.”

Fareeha clasped her shoulder, then stood again. “Chat with the harper. He’s a nice fellow,” she suggested. Lena’s smile was entirely fake when she nodded her agreement and pulled her jacket tighter around her chest. 

With nothing else to say, Fareeha returned to Raptorath, to prepare for the next step.

\-------------

Fareeha had never wished so deeply that Raptorath would kill a man for her. Her helmet fell out of numb fingers, her body shaking from the cold of between. She wished she’d let Lena come with them after all. The greenrider could have been the shouting, cursing conduit for her utter fury at seeing Angela manhandled. “I would prefer a Weyr.” Lord Gabriel said, shoving Angela forward with the weapon. She rammed her elbows back into Amelie and kicked at her knees. “And if I am not mistaken, a dragon will not abandon her eggs. Even if her rider dies?”

Fareeha’s stomach dropped. Not Angela. Not one more dragonrider, not a goldrider, not her weyrmate. She saw the terror and anger shock through Angela and nearly charged him right then. “Scorch it, Lord Gabriel, let her go!” She shouted. “What do you want? What can we give you?” She would have given every mark she had, the armor off her back, anything short of her life and her dragon. 

“I told you. A Weyr. This one. And dragonriders to go with it,” Lord Gabriel answered. “No more relying on you degenerates for protection. We will defend ourselves from Thread. From anything that threatens us. Others will join us. It will be a new Pern, without the holds subservient to undeserving weyrs.” She could have choked on her fury. Stealing an entire clutch of dragons, planning to Impress them to his blasted holdfolk instead of properly Searched Candidates? Forcing the dragonriders of the Weyr to tolerate such a blatant disregard for them, their dragons and their bonds? Angela fought Amelie again. Fareeha followed the path of the giant weapon in his hand as it tracked Angela’s head back and forth. No matter what she’d sworn to Lena, threatening a goldrider was a step too far. 

She was just looking to Zarya for some kind of guidance when Oxtoth came blasting out of between. Fareeha turned her head to follow the rider’s path, shouting wordlessly as the green shot across the bowl towards Angela. Oxtoth crossed between Lacroith and the lord holder and she saw Gabriel twitch. There was a howl from his direction. Light and blood burst through Oxtoth’s wing, a hole appearing in the middle of the green’s sail. She squalled and in an instant she was between once again. 

Fareeha felt Raptorath’s gut surge with grief, but she had none left. She stood, knees locked, hands fisted, as the keening shriek rose behind her. Numbness crushed through her, pushing everything else away. She felt emptied from head to toe, cold and dark right through. There were no words. She couldn’t even look at Zarya.

“It is over,” Lord Gabriel intoned as the dragons went silent. The breath pushed out of Fareeha’s lungs as he gripped Angela by the back of the neck, wrenching her out of Amelie’s unresisting hands. “You have a day to mourn. Then all of you answer to me. Anyone who steps out of line shares her fate.” 

He turned and lead the goldrider back into the caverns, leaving Amelie standing slumped where she was. Fareeha shuddered, trying to breathe again, to sort out her thoughts. It was W’Ton who broke her paralysis, stepping up alongside her. “Now what?” he asked quietly, his voice husky with emotion.

Fareeha straightened her shoulders, dropping her chin to her chest. “Double up in your weyrs,” she said, turning back towards the wingriders. She could not stand the hopeless looks that they gave her, drawing herself up taller and raising her head. “Stay together. Sleep. Eat. Barricade your doors. Do not let them in. Don’t talk to them. Move from weyr to weyr on dragonback only.” She caught Zarya’s attention with a glance. “There will be further orders tomorrow.”

\-------------

Sunrise was not the boon it usually was. Fareeha sat on J’Crees ledge, dressed in his towel and robe. Her bites from the insects itched. Her hair felt heavy with grease and ash. She had none of her own clothes, hardly anything to call her own and the ledge and door to Angela’s weyr were curtained and guarded. Taking over J’Crees weyr had been her only option, as upsetting as it was. She leaned her shoulder against Raptorath. _How is Caudeth? Does she know where Angela is?_

His voice was troubled. _She hungers. The men will not let me bring her food. Hers is in the infirmary._

Fareeha winced, hoping that did not mean Angela was injured. She felt bruised enough as she was. _They do not understand. I will talk to them._

Raptorath nudged her with his head. _She has many eggs. She thinks one is gold._

Fareeha thought back to the flight, the hour long marathon of twists and turns that Caudeth had lead them on. At the height Raptorath had caught her, it seemed possible that she would have a large clutch, but Fareeha had always been told that browns catching queens almost never resulted in a gold egg. Perhaps in a Weyr without bronzes it would be different. 

_It's too early to tell,_ she told the dragon. _Have you found Morth?_ She asked. Raptorath rumbled a reply.

_The men used strange weapons on him. He slept, like we did in the jungle._ Fareeha nodded, mentally adding another assaulted dragon and rider to her tally. _You should oil your hide. You itch._

Fareeha looked towards the hatching sands again, seeing no sign of Caudeth, only the broad screen the holders had mounted to contain the gold and barricade out the other dragons and their riders. She picked at one of her wounds, then exhaled harshly. She was the weyrleader. It was time to descend to ground level and act the part. _Tell Aleksath’s I am going to the infirmary._

Redressed in her armour, Fareeha felt disappointed in herself for her grim satisfaction at the way the holders scattered from her in the halls. These people should trust her, see her as their protector, not as someone who meant them harm. The Lord Holder had done his work very well in turning the holders against the dragonriders. 

As much as they should not be afraid of her, she should not want to frighten them. Her instructors and weyrlingmaster had taught her better than that. Even Ana had set the example of being respected, not feared. Right now, she felt she had no other choice. It was either allow them to fear her or let them believe she was weak. By the time she reached the infirmary, she was already exhausted by all of the challenging glares and fleeing footsteps. 

There were two people on duty, both of them sitting at the bedside of an injured holder some distance from the entrance. They looked up at her arrival, then exchanged a glance. By their faces and insignia she knew they were not the weyrfolk healers who usually staffed the infirmary. When one rose, she took note of his plain cord, no sign of healer purple or crafters knots on his shoulder.

“Dragonrider. You are required to request healing in your quarters. This infirmary is closed to you.”

She shot him an indignant glare. “This is the Weyr infirmary, designated for the healing and recuperation of dragonriders,” she responded in clipped tones. “This is exactly where I should be.”

He opened his mouth to say more but there was a sudden clamour of furniture being moved and a door being shoved open. Angela stood in the entrance to her office, eyes wide, hair flowing over her shoulders. She looked at once wonderful and awful in her exhaustion. 

“Weyrleader Fareeha,” she breathed. The ‘healer’ glanced from one to the other, his eyes widening. 

“Angela.” Fareeha strode past the man, straight for the goldrider. She did not hesitate when she reached her, wrapping Angela up in her arms, pulling her face tight to her chest. The woman’s entire body shook and she pulled Fareeha a few steps further into her office. 

“Close the door, hurry,” she said into Fareeha’s chest, pushing her face into the leather of the flight jacket. “Oh shells I have missed you.”

Fareeha let go of her just enough to shut the office door. “Are you alright?” She asked. Angela’s fingers worked to undo the jacket, until she had it open and could lean her forehead into the warm skin underneath.

“No,” Angela admitted. “He won’t let me go to Caudeth. They wouldn’t let riders in to take R’Hardt until this morning. I didn't think they’d let you see me.” She kissed Fareeha’s chest, then pulled herself closer. “You’re hurt,” she observed, the crack in her voice sounding as though she took that far too personally.

“It isn’t-”

“It is important!” Angela’s eyes overflowed for a moment. “You don’t understand, Fareeha. I could have saved R’Hardt. I could have talked sense into Lena. They won’t let me see Ana. Please, please, let me at least take care of you.”

Fareeha nodded, letting Angela move away from her to get water, gauze and ointment. “You were with R’Hardt?” She asked, wincing when Angela’s hands went still.

“He was stabbed protecting me,” she said. Then she was in motion again, pulling Fareeha’s jacket from her shoulders and studying the wounds it concealed. “Will we lose anyone else?” she asked, looking away from Fareeha’s eyes as she wet the gauze.

“Not to injuries from the fight,” Fareeha answered, watching those delicate fingers daub at the bites. “And I hope no more to that weapon. Where did it come from?”

“Sombra convinced the technocrafters to get it for him. That’s what the holders say,” Angela said, pushing Fareeha to sit on her desk. “I don’t know if they tricked the crafters or if they sided with him…”

“Enough of them did. They tried to ground Aleksath at the hall.” Fareeha hung her head, squeezing her eyes shut against her memory of the bug flaying J’Cree’s face. “J’Cree...was trying to help her. I should have gone instead.”

“No.” Angela’s next swipe with the cloth was firm and she used her free hand to tilt Fareeha’s head up. “You shouldn’t have. We need you.”

“I needed him. He was my wingsecond,” Fareeha retorted, wincing as the antiseptic washed over her wounds. 

Angela’s brows knitted. “What would he have wanted?”

Fareeha’s shoulders slumped. “For me to save the wing and Aleksath,” she admitted quietly. Angela cupped her cheek and kissed her softly.

“Hold onto that,” she murmured. “As long as you can.”

Fareeha licked her lips. “I will.” There was silence, until Angela switched from gauze and antiseptic to ointment. 

“Was Mei…” she trailed off, looking into the ointment bottle. “Is she alive?”

“Her flit is. She sent Zarya a message.” Fareeha watched Angela slather the ointment over the bites. “I don’t think she was with them. Not if they tried to murder Aleksath. Mei knows what would happen if they succeeded.”

Angela nodded. Beyond the doors came precise, clicking footsteps. She turned away from Fareeha, kicking an assortment of furniture in front of the door. When she started to drag a heavy chair, Fareeha stood and moved to her side. “They won’t let you stay. I’m not finished,” Angela growled. 

A knuckle rapped on the door. “Weyrleader?” Amelie’s voice was dead neutral, more devoid of character than it usually was.

Angela straightened and Fareeha had to catch her before she wrenched the door open. “Don’t,” Fareeha murmured into her hair, taking a long, deep breath of her scent. She turned her hold into a hug, kissing Angela on the cheek. “Don’t fight her. For Caudeth’s sake,” she said. “We can win her back,” she added into Angela’s ear, closing her eyes at the memory of the promise she'd made to Lena. The goldrider was stiff in her arms, until Fareeha bunted her nose against Angela’s hair.

“Come back as soon as they’ll let you,” Angela admonished, holding Fareeha tighter. “Or I will break out of here to find you.”

“Weyrleader. The lord holder wishes to speak with you,” Amelie said flatly.

Fareeha’s smile was thin. “Be safe,” she said, kissing Angela again. Reluctantly, the healer released her and Fareeha pushed the furniture aside to open the door. 

“Come with me,” Amelie said as Fareeha emerged, her eyes fixing dully on the weyrleader’s shoulder. “He has been waiting.”

\-------------

It was warm in the lord holder’s chambers. He’d occupied one of the empty goldrider weyrs, low on the mountain. Fareeha had initially hoped he would be a vain, stupid man, but one look around his well ordered quarters told a different story. The weapon, looking much smaller when it wasn’t pointed at a dragonrider, was mounted on one wall. On the other, he had posted maps of the Weyr, both overhead and straight on. Every occupied weyr was marked with number references-Fareeha would wager there was a book or scroll somewhere nearby full of notes on each one.

“Weyrleader,” the lord holder said, nodding as she entered. She was silent, watching him, trying to discern something more about him. He was like smoke-just when you thought you had something, it slipped away. “Please sit.”

“I will stand, Lord Holder,” she emphasized his title, as though enough reminders might put him back in his place. 

“I need you to answer some questions for me,” he said.

Her jaw worked. She did not want to tell him anything, but she was not a deceptive person. “What do you need to know?”

“How is weyrleadership determined, exactly?” His expression betrayed nothing but Fareeha felt this was an extremely dangerous question. She stared until he cleared his throat. “I can ask Amelie,” he said, glancing at the tall rider, “but she obviously is not an expert.”

Fareeha looked at Amelie as well. The woman stood by the door, giving no indication she heard them at all. Her head was tilted very slightly. She stared blankly at the weapon. “It’s up to the gold dragon,” Fareeha said, turning back to Lord Gabriel. “Whoever she chooses is the Weyrleader.”

“Any gold?” He arched an eyebrow.

“The weyrwoman’s gold,” Amelie said. “Aleksath.” Fareeha looked at her, but the other woman did not move. 

“Even though she does not clutch?” The lord holder looked towards the curtain that blocked off the dragonless ledge. “Hm. And how is the weyrwoman chosen?”

When he looked back at her, it was to a firmly closed mouth and narrowed eyes. This was indeed a dangerous line of inquiry. She would not give him what he wanted. When Amelie spoke again, it was with the same dispassionate tone. “The new weyrwoman is the rider of the first gold to rise after the current weyrwoman retires.” Her head tilted slightly to the other side. “Or dies.”

Fareeha narrowed her eyes at the way the lord holder’s eyebrows raised. Her pulse picked up. “This is why you called me here? It seems Amelie can answer all of your questions after all,” she said, trying and failing to bite back her simmering anger.

“How long until Caudeth clutches?” he asked, ignoring her challenge. Now he looked from one to the other. This time, Amelie did not pipe up. She took a step closer to the mounted weapon, eyes focusing on something on the barrel end. She reached out with one hand, touching, then withdrawing from the device.

“Two and a half months,” Fareeha said tersely. “Unless your holders continue preventing her from eating. Then the answer is ‘never’.”

Now he looked surprised, but only for a moment. “A dark joke,” he murmured, “about the life of your queen.”

Fareeha glared coolly back at him. “Asking hasn’t worked. You won't even let her rider go to her,” she sniped back at him. “Perhaps I could get the harper to compose a song. Your holders are interfering with one of my most important duties as weyrleader. They must allow Raptorath and Angela access to Caudeth and the sands so the clutch can be properly cared for.”

“Not you?”

She felt her lips pull tight with anger at his snide tone. “Are you offering?”

“Only wondering if you were going to ask for that as well.”

Fareeha stared at him, both of them utterly still. She willed herself not to move, not to blink, until he broke the silence by folding his hands. “I am willing to stand aside while Caudeth broods,” she said, cutting him off before he could begin to speak. “I will not allow your ignorance to harm that clutch, however. You would be wise to speak with me before making any further ‘decisions’ about the security of the sands.”

The lord holder gave her a long look. “And what about the dispensation of the riders of the Weyr?”

“Any orders you wish to give to the dragonriders have to go through me,” Fareeha answered, straightening her shoulders. “Chain of command. The dragons won't listen unless the orders come through the proper channels.”

“You. Or Zarya. Correct?” The skin of her back crawled at his thoughtful expression. 

“Yes.” She stared at him again. “So Raptorath will be allowed on the sands? Angela can stay with Caudeth?”

Lord Gabriel nodded slowly. “I’ll issue the order. Your dragon will be permitted to pass through the entryway when he is bringing food.”

“Thank you.” It grated her last nerve to say it, but the way the lord holder’s expression brightened at her tiny capitulation made it worthwhile. 

“You are dismissed, weyrleader,” he said, scribbling out the order and signing it. He offered her the paper. “We will speak again soon.”


	3. Green, Blue, Brown, Bronze and...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fareeha's frustrations with the lord holders iron grip on her Weyr move her to begin planning in earnest, especially as Caudeth's clutch is born.

“I do not like this.”

Fareeha sighed, shaking her head. “I know.” She closed the box of paperwork that she was packing, then turned to look at Zarya. The weyrwoman was neatly stacking bedding at one end of her broad sleeping platform. “But I am certain we are both in danger.”

Zarya grunted, piling pillows next to the furs. “It feels like we are abandoning Angela,” she said. “We leave her locked up in the sands while we hide in the heights. It is disloyal.” She glanced at Fareeha, who looked off towards the ledge. Aleksath was already safely sunning herself in the heights. The traditional weyrwoman’s weyrs, on the lowest level of the mountain so they could be close to the hatching sands, were also easily accessible by a reasonably determined person or persons. The higher weyrs had all had their interior doors barricaded shut and so were considerably safer since there was no way of accessing them from inside of the mountain. 

It had been Fareeha’s idea to move Zarya up to the heights. Though the weyrwoman clearly resented the necessity of the move, she had agreed to go along with it once Fareeha had explained the vague threat that Lord Gabriel had made against them both. Packing her personal belongings was the last necessary step-her dragon, her gear and her flamethrower had already been moved. “Angela would not want you in danger. My weyr is directly above the sands. I am always watching over her,” Fareeha reminded the Weyrwoman. 

Since Lord Gabriel had Angela moved from the infirmary to the hatching sands, he’d made several unwelcome changes. The curtain that blocked off the only entrance and exit from the sands to the bowl had been reinforced. Only Udjath and Raptorath were allowed through-Udjath because Ana had somehow persuaded the holders that the old queen needed the warmth of the sands to ease her joints and Raptorath because he was providing food for the queen. No one aside from Ana was permitted to access the sands from the caverns-four guards blocked the way at all hours of the day and night, keeping Angela in and the other riders out. 

Fareeha had specifically traded weyrs with J’Rat to ensure she would be close if Angela needed her. She had no doubt Raptorath would be able to rip through the curtain in an emergency. The smell and the occasional small fire had taken some getting used to, but her new location offered her some peace of mind. “Yes, yes,” Zarya grumbled, her hand pausing over a nightdress tucked along the side of the bed. “Hm.”

Fareeha looked up from her work as Zarya sat. The nightclothes in her hand were too small and delicate to belong to the broad shouldered Weyrwoman. “Has she sent you any more messages?” She asked cautiously. 

“No. Paper is limited. She is only allowed to send Snowball when the harper permits it.” Zarya folded the nightshirt with great delicacy. “Satya is no longer in control of her own hall.”

Frowning into the box she’d been filling, Fareeha shook her head. “How did we not see this coming?”

Zarya moved the heap of bedding into another box. “He was subtle. We were looking in other directions. It is not something we will allow a second time.”

“I wish there was a way to convince the north to help us.”

Zarya paused next to Fareeha, resting a hand on her shoulder. “We do not need them. We will be enough.” For a moment, Zarya leaned into the contact, then she withdrew. Fareeha’s brow furrowed, then she straightened. She caught Zarya by one wrist, then pulled her into a hug, her arms barely able to wrap around the weyrwoman’s barrel chest.

“We will get Mei out of the hall,” she said sincerely, feeling Zarya’s tensed arms relax. “And we will get Angela out of the sands. They can’t maintain this hold over us forever. As long as we two are free, they haven’t won yet.” She let Zarya go with a clap to the shoulder.

“I told you something like that once,” Zarya said with a tight smile.

“You did. It changed my life,” Fareeha confirmed. “I am with you, Zarya. Neither of us has to do this alone.”

Zarya nodded, turning to pack the last few items. “Once I am settled, we will begin discussions on how to retake our Weyr.” She hefted the box and carried it towards the ledge, Fareeha following after her with the two she’d packed.

“I am looking forward to it, weyrwoman.”

\-------------

Fareeha sat at her customary table, scrubbing her hand over her eyes. She’d had a meeting with Lord Gabriel in the morning, then planning with Zarya in the afternoon, just as her time had passed for sevendays. Neither had been very fruitful, aside from eliminating a few more possible plans from the dragonriders limited roster. The lord holder had once more dismissed her concerns about the Hall and their supplies, stating only that he was monitoring their situation and was confident in their safety for the time being. The knowledge that Mei, Satya and the other crafters were languishing in an underground prison because of the lord holders complacency kept her awake many nights, but she had no recourse.

There should have been more progress. There should have been something, even a sarcastic inquiry from the northerners. They’d practically abducted the young harper Lucio and Sombra could not have been in contact with her hall for a month at least. To her knowledge, however, Lord Gabriel had Amelie dealing with the firestone and supply deliveries and there had been no inquiries from the harpers hall. What Amelie told the riders, Fareeha could only guess. In the past two sevendays, Zarya had made mental contact with the northern dragons, but how much she’d accomplished was unclear. Their attempts to send individual dragons for help had gone similarly poorly-Lacroith seemed to be watching the others at all hours of the day and reporting on their movements. Any who slipped between without the lord holders permission meant technocrafters loyal to Gabriel in the bowl, armed with an assortment of the arsenal they’d brought with them during the Hall evacuation. None of the dragons or riders had been harmed yet, but the threat was very clear. The isolation was maddening. 

It would have been easier to work together if they had access to Angela, but Caudeth couldn’t focus on anything other than her nest building and the guards were far too nosy about the presence of the weyrleadership anywhere near any existing entrance to the hatching sands. She’d been probing along side tunnels, but she could only explore for so long before someone needed her again. Then there were the mundanities of her regular work-assessments for the higher flying parts of the wing, choosing Searchriders, trying to plan for the clutching and hatching. She needed to pick a wingsecond soon. Her fellow browns understood the delay, but she couldn’t stall forever. J’Cree wasn’t coming back.

A hush fell around her as someone entered the mess hall. Fareeha looked up from her plate, expecting to see Lord Gabriel in the entrance. Instead, it was Amelie, fully armored, looking around the room. The rider was still as could be, her head slowly turning as she studied one table after another. When her golden eyes came to rest on Fareeha, the weyrleader gestured, directing Amelie towards her. The response was a measured stare, then the bluerider crossed to her table and seated herself.

“Good evening,” Fareeha said. Amelie continued to stare, folding her hands on the table politely. “Get a plate of food, rider, then sit back down.” A single blink, then Amelie did as ordered. Her portion was small, but she removed her faceplate once she was seated again and began to eat. The blue woman looked bizarre most of the time, but she didn’t usually appear so sick. Strands of hair were stuck to her cheeks. Her eyes were dull and unfocused. “Report.”

Amelie lowered her fork to her plate. “What?” She asked. Her voice was raspy.

“Report, dragonrider. Summarize your day.” Fareeha scooped up a bite of her own food. She hadn’t initially had an agenda in summoning the rider to sit with her, only a lingering memory of Lena’s last request. She hadn’t expected to succeed. Now that Amelie had joined her, without a fight or an insubordinate snippy comment, Fareeha was curious what else she could get from Lord Gabriel’s right hand woman.

“I woke. I posted myself outside of Lord Gabriel’s quarters. I took no note of anything unusual in the skies. I came here to eat dinner.” The bluerider looked at her food, then back to the weyrleader as though asking permission.

Fareeha nodded, sipping her water. “Who posted you by Lord Gabriel?”

Amelie chewed her food thoroughly, then set the fork down again. “He did.”

Fareeha watched until Amelie took another bite of food. “What does that assignment entail?” The golden eyes closed, then opened again.

“Observation of the other dragonriders,” Amelie stated, taking another bite. “Providing messenger services. Flying him to places he wishes to go. Dealing with representatives from other weyrs.”

Fareeha nodded. She wished Amelie was more expressive. The woman couldn’t be totally emotionless-that was the sort of thing that a dragon would pick up on-she was just closed off. She also itched to know whose authority Amelie was claiming when she dealt with the northerners. “Tomorrow is skills evaluation for blueriders,” she said, waiting once again until Amelie looked her in the eye. “I expect you to be there. We’re short a messenger. The wing needs your speed.”

The expression lasted half a second at most, but Fareeha was so intent on watching Amelie that she was able to see it. The bluerider’s shoulders tensed, her lips thinned and she inhaled sharply through her nose. Her eyes softened, then she looked down at her plate again. “I will attend,” she said, her voice still flat. 

“You will pass,” Fareeha said, leaning her elbows on the table. “Or you will be placed on remedial duties and Lord Gabriel can requisition a new ledge guard.”

There was another flicker, but Amelie’s downturned face made her difficult to read. The only other indication she’d heard was a single sharp nod. “Yes, weyrleader.”

Fareeha picked up her own fork and returned to reading reports. 

\-------------

_I want to do drills._

Fareeha curled her hand and rubbed a dry patch on Raptorath’s shoulder. _You are being the weyrleader right now,_ she reminded him. _Watch Pebuth’s turns._

 _Caudeth and Aleksath are watching. I want them to see us. They like seeing us fly. I am good at flying._ The dragon adjusted how he was crouched, to better show off his coloration to both the gold curtained off into the hatching sands and the gold sunning to one side of the launch pad.

 _Watch Pebuth._ Fareeha turned to look over her shoulder, peering down at the curtain that separated the normally open hatching sands from the bowl. Caudeth was easy to spot, her bulk taking up most of the blocked off entrance. Angela was just visible to her side, one hand on the dragon, the other on the woven curtain that imprisoned them. She watched the flying dragons intently, as though she anticipated an injury at any moment.

 _They like my muscles,_ Raptorath pointed out. Fareeha turned back to watching the blue in the sky. W’Ton was a bulky, slow rider, even on blue. He didn’t move with the same precise sharpness as the others, something she attributed to his size as well as his inattention during drills. She knew, if allowed, that W’Ton would be right there with Mei and the other technocrafters. He was always daydreaming about new inventions. Unfortunately for him, they needed dragonriders. 

_You are a wherry,_ Fareeha replied to her dragon. He grumbled back to her, then resumed watching the dragon above them as W’Ton brought him in to land on a ledge. _High level. He flies like a brown,_ she noted. Raptorath’s agreement came with no comment and she marked her list. 

_Lacroith is next,_ Raptorath said, spotting the patterned blue. _He is very small. And very blotchy. He does not have large muscles._

Fareeha hummed to herself as she pulled Amelie’s paperwork, nodding in time with her dragons litany of nitpicks about the blue. No matter that Lacroith had only nearly caught Aleksath once, hadn’t even bothered chasing Caudeth, Raptorath took the blue’s pursuit of ‘his’ gold as a personal insult. He would ramble on about the other dragon’s faults endlessly to Fareeha if she let him. Raptorath’s confidence was a much needed support for her in these difficult times. When even assessing riders and working on the plans to rescue the Weyr couldn’t distract her from her worries, her dragon's insistence on the simpler things was immeasurably helpful.

 _...and his wing sails are oddly shaped,_ Raptorath continued. _He would not have been able to fly Aleksath to the ground as gently as I did. And his neck is too thin, Caudeth would not have wanted to twine necks with him, his neck is bony._

Fareeha looked towards the hatching sands again. Though the curtain blocked her view, she was sure Angela was looking up at her. She risked a small wave of her hand and got one immediately in return. Her heart thudded. She turned back towards the testing area, trying to push back against the pang of loss she felt whenever she thought too much of Angela. They had been separated for far too long. Talking to her through their dragons was all they could manage and it did not take the place of curling up alongside her in bed, or sharing a meal.

Amelie swung herself into her saddle, securing her straps, then Lacroith stepped to the designated launch pad. _Tell them to take off, then fly a slow loop around the peak and land on the pad,_ Fareeha instructed Raptorath, interrupting his continued complaining. He relayed the order, but the blue remained where he was. _Repeat, ask for confirmation,_ she said, studying Amelie’s posture on dragonback. The rider was perfectly ready for takeoff, but her dragon remained firmly on the ground. 

_Lacroith confirms, but does not believe he can do that._

Fareeha clipped her pen to the notes, leaning forward for a better look at the dragonpair below. There was no way a healthy dragon would be unable to do a simple take-off, circle, landing sequence. Amelie slowly turned her head, facing the weyrleader directly. Fareeha recalled their conversation over dinner the previous evening.

 _Repeat. Ask for confirmation._ There was no change in Amelie’s demeanour as the order was repeated. Fareeha watched the rider for a few breaths, then picked up her pen once more. _Orders issued for remedial work,_ she told Raptorath. _Effective immediately. She is to start firestone packing tomorrow morning._

Raptorath relayed the news. Unlike many others, who would have cursed her in a friendly fashion or stormed off to throw a fit somewhere else, Amelie simply unstrapped herself and climbed off of Lacroith’s shoulders. She watched him take off and flap to the ledge that had once belonged to Lena and Oxtoth. Amelie turned her back to the weyrleader, walking to the caverns amidst a burst of conversation.

\-------------

A life lived in Weyrs granted definite advantages to the weyrborn when it came to evading holders. The knowledge that every Weyr was honeycombed with unused back tunnels and corridors was one of them. Most of those went nowhere, but with persistence it was possible to find the one or two that ended in a place you might want to be. Fareeha felt her way along the walls of this particular one in the pitch darkness, hoping she didn’t blindly stomp into a tunnel snake nest in the back corridor. She’d done her best to clear the way for herself so far, but the pests were unpredictable sometimes. 

She rounded a corner, squeezing most of the air out of her lungs in the suddenly almost closed off hallway. Shoving through, she found herself in a shoulder-width gap, facing a small handful of holes in the wall. She could feel the heat of the hatching sands all around her as she worked her way to the openings and pressed her face against the hot stone. She’d known there must be a way to reach her goal but her work and the guards had made it difficult for her to make any progress. This path had been the product of sevendays of careful exploration.

On the far side of the sands, she could see Udjath and Caudeth settled on what would be the benches for guests and viewers on the hatching day. The younger queen was dozing, her belly rounded with gestating eggs. The elder, higher on the riser, was watching the commotion on the couch with whirling blue eyes.

Angela and Ana were grappling on the flat stone. Fareeha almost shouted at them, until Angela struggled out of Ana’s grip and backed up to the far edge of the platform. “You said no hair pulling,” the younger woman said, tugging on her ponytail to fix it.

Ana chortled. “I said do not pull my hair,” she corrected, standing slowly and fixing her clothing. “Nothing about yours.”

Angela shook out her arms and straightened her tunic. “Ana?”

The older woman rolled out her shoulder. “Yes?”

“Don’t pull my hair.”

“No.”

Angela shook her head, then set her feet and watched as Ana tugged on her belt. They edged towards each other again, studying each other's movement, watching for an opportunity. Angela moved first, her hand snapping towards Ana’s throat. Ana’s elbow intercepted, and she drove her heel down on Angela’s bare foot. 

Fareeha expected her to yelp and call off the match, but Angela tucked her head and tackled Ana to the ground with a grunt of pain. They twisted and shoved one another back and forth on the stone, until Angela twisted her hips and flipped Ana onto her front. She pulled the older woman's arm behind her back and pushed her knee against Ana’s hamstring. 

Fareeha laughed at the expression on Ana’s face, and both of the women startled out of the grapple. Ana had a knife in her hands impossibly fast. Angela strode across the sands to where Caudeth lay, staring intently at the entrance that was perpetually occupied by guards. Stepping back from her observation point, Fareeha edged closer to a gap that would have her nearer to Ana. 

“Hsst.” She slapped her hand against the wall when Ana turned and approached the gap. “Ana.” 

“Who is that?” Ana spoke low, peering into the opening in the wall. “Who’s there?”

“Fareeha.” The older woman’s lips quirked into a wry smile, then she turned away from the wall and leaned against it.

“You’re a clever one, aren’t you?” Fareeha saw her wave one hand, catching Angela’s attention and urging her to join her. 

“I have had good teachers, goldrider,” Fareeha answered, all of her attention on the approaching woman. She catalogued everything, putting her honed observational skills to good use. Angela looked tired, but healthy. Sweat and dirt was smeared on her arms and face from the wrestling. Her expression was controlled, her eyes sparking as though she was ready for a real fight to follow her sparring. She seemed leaner than the last time Fareeha had a good look at her, but not malnourished. 

“Stand by the wall,” Ana told the younger woman, urging Angela towards the gap Fareeha was standing behind. “Tell me what you hear.”

Angela stopped short of the wall, giving Ana an incredulous look. “Did I roll you too hard? Did you hit your head?” she asked, peering at the older woman.

“Angela.” Fareeha pressed her hands to the wall, wishing she could step right through it. 

The goldrider blinked, studying Ana even more closely. “...did I hit my head?”

Ana huffed, then jerked her head towards the wall. “Closer,” she commanded. Angela took another step, tilting her head curiously.

“Angela, it’s Fareeha.”

Angela gasped, clasping one hand over her mouth. Distant footsteps sounded, but Ana stepped alongside the other goldrider and gave her a hearty whack between the shoulders.

“That’s what happens when you eat too quickly,” the older woman said as two of the guards appeared behind them. “Silly girl.”

Angela leaned into the wall, eyes searching along the cracks. Fareeha pushed her hand as far as it would go through one of them, ignoring the burning on her palm when she brushed Angela’s tunic on the other side. “I’m sorry, Ana,” Angela breathed, finally finding a gap she could see through. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

It was the least convincing explanation possible, but a glare from Ana seemed to make the guards think better of pressing their luck. “Just thought it might be a tunnel snake,” one of them volunteered as they turned about and ambled back to their posts.

“Fareeha.” Angela’s fingertips ghosted over Fareeha’s. “You’re alright. You’re here.”

“I can’t stay long. Are you well? Are you safe? Is Caudeth alright?” She tried to push her hand further through, and felt her knuckles tear for her troubles. Angela’s fingers pressed against hers again. Her touch eased the sting of the burn and the scrapes. 

“I can’t stand being locked away like this,” Angela said. “But I am safe. I have been training and studying with Ana and on my own.” She studied Fareeha through the gap. “Caudeth is close. Is there a plan?” She dipped to a whisper on the last sentence. Ana moved closer as well.

“We haven’t come up with one yet. Zarya and I have been trying.”

Ana huffed indignantly but made no other comment. “I made you an asset list,” Angela said, “In case I was able to see you. I’m sure you already have one…”

“We do, but extra eyes are always welcome,” Fareeha responded. There was a short silence as she just stared at Angela’s face, feeling her heart thud painfully at the tiny, impenetrable distance between them. She tried to shove her hand further, to no avail. “You’re beautiful.”

Angela covered her mouth with her hand again, muffling a small, choked sound. “We miss you so much,” she whispered between her fingers. “Caudeth wants Raptorath with her. It’s hard to sleep here alone.”

“It’s hard to sleep at all.”

Angela pressed her hand to the wall, her fingers resting over Fareeha’s. “Darling I’m so sorry.”

Fareeha felt the tears flow. “I can’t help you. I can’t help the hall. I want you safe with me too.”

Angela gently nudged her fingers. “I can be safe on my own for a little longer,” she said. “I believe in you.” She glanced at the other goldrider. Ana was patiently watching the guards at the door for any signs that they were listening. “Ana brought me a knife.”

“I’m surprised she has any left,” Fareeha answered, wiping her tears away. 

“A terrified old woman cannot be held responsible for her actions. Especially when she makes such excellent klah,” Ana responded. “And if she feels safer with just one little knife? Who is to say no to her. If we hadn’t given her so much fellis, she would have known what she was doing was wrong.” Ana recited, likely recalling the statements made during whatever ‘trial’ the lord holder had given her. The dragonriders had been barred from attending. Ana's innocent verdict had surprised them all. The older woman patted Angela on the shoulder. “If she stays like that any longer, she’s going to roast her hand.”

“Fareeha!” 

Fareeha withdrew her hand, noting the painful redness and the bloody knuckles the moment she was free of the gap. “I’ll come again, as soon as I can,” she promised. 

“Take care of yourself,” Angela answered, stroking the wall. “Please.”

Fareeha pressed her unburnt hand against the same spot on her side. “I will.”

\-------------

Sunk to her neck in the hottest part of the men's baths, Fareeha closed her eyes and breathed deeply. She needed to relax. She needed to think. There was less than a sevenday until Caudeth clutched and they still had not come up with a plan. There would be no smuggling the gold away once the eggs were laid. It would be almost impossible to move the other dragonriders until after the hatching. They couldn’t abandon weyrlings to the instruction of clueless holdfolk... 

She heard a distinctive shuffling footstep pattern, following after a more confident stride, and opened her eyes again. Lord Gabriel entered the baths, J’Rat at his back, prattling on. She stifled a smile at the vexed expression the lord holder wore. J’Rat had volunteered for this duty and the lord holder had been unable to counter Fareeha’s multiple arguments that the one-legged, thieving, former miner was the best suited to be his assigned dragonrider. 

“So what I did, mate, and this is brilliant, is I took these chunks of firestone, lashed ‘em on a cart wheel, and threw the son of a wherry right in the fire! Wasn’t worth it to get in my grill after that, i’d say.”

Lord Gabriel took off his robe and shoes, turning to J’Rat with a measured glare. “You killed a man because he insulted your dragon,” he said flatly.

“Nah mate. The cart wheel was the son of a wherry, P’lar was just a son of a whore said Unketh was ugly. You gotta keep up, mate, I thought you were supposed to be sharp!” J’Rat dropped his pants and kicked off his prosthetic leg as though it was an annoyance instead of a miracle of the technocrafters art. 

Fareeha watched Lord Gabriel descend into the far end of the pool, searching for scars, wounds, any sort of physical advantage she had over him. There were some marks, but they were old and not deep. They suggested a brawling youth, not a difficult adulthood. J’Rat plunged in after him, obscuring her view. “You do not need to be so close.”

“Sorry mate, got orders. Isn’t that right weyrleader?” Lord Gabriel seemed startled by J’Rat’s revelation, looking back and forth in the water until he finally spotted Fareeha tucked into her corner. 

“It is,” Fareeha answered J’Rat. “He is required to be with you at all times from breakfast to dinner, in case you have need of anything. Just as Amelie was.”

Lord Gabriel looked at the soaked and yet somehow still filthy dragonrider next to him. J’Rat unconcernedly grabbed a handful of sweetsand and began working it into his greasy hair, offering the lord holder some of the suds. “Order him to go.”

“Nah,” J’Rat said, beaming as he stood up and began scrubbing the soap along his body. With as much subtlety as he possessed, the lord holder edged a few feet away. “Baths are mandatory, part of the job. Got a few writeups on my record for that, sos I know. And I haven’t had one in...couple sevendays, now I think on it.”

Lord Gabriel took some fresh sweetsand and began his own grooming, keeping most of his body concealed by the water. “Why are you here, weyrleader?” He asked, not looking at Fareeha.

“Some of the hold women are uncomfortable with me in the women's baths. I come here to accommodate them.”

“Donno why,” J’Rat opined. “Weyrleader’s a fine looking lady, right mate?” He elbowed the lord holder in the arm and Lord Gabriel moved another several feet around the pool ledge in response. 

“I don’t want the holders to feel unwelcome,” Fareeha stated, eyes firmly locked on Lord Gabriel’s head. He made no comment as he scrubbed his hair. 

“That big girl gonna clutch soon?” J’Rat asked, rubbing his shoulder against the wall of the pool. “Cause I got bets. You can gimme the inside track, right?”

Fareeha noted the way Lord Gabriel turned very slightly in her direction. “A sevenday,” she said to J’Rat. “No more than that.”

The skinny rider humphed and dumped another handful of sweetsand over his head, accomplishing nothing but somehow looking dirtier. “Not helpful at all, friend,” he said, dunking himself again. When he emerged he was slightly cleaner.

“Lord Gabriel, I assume I will be allowed to fulfill my duties as weyrleader by assisting Angela with the clutching?” Fareeha met his eyes and held the gaze, challenging and assertive.

“An incorrect assumption. You are barred from the sands until hatching day,” he replied, turning deliberately away from her. 

She opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again. She was getting better at reading him. Anything she said would only extend or aggravate her ban. It might even net her some subtle punishment. She clenched her jaw, then nodded to him. 

“Understood, Lord Holder,” she bit out, surging out of the pool to gather up her towel and sandals. “Be well, J’Rat.”

“Turn a little left, weyrleader,” J’Rat responded, just before her thrown shoe collided with his jaw.

\-------------

Fareeha had tried to be cautious as she made her way towards the corridor she thought of as her ‘observation room’. She’d checked the halls, had other dragons confirm the whereabouts of Lacroith, Amelie and Lord Gabriel, then rushed into the sercret space. It felt like an eternity before she reached the small gaps that had become so familiar in the last sevendays. She peered through, looking for Angela and her dragon. Caudeth was presently pacing on the sands. Udjath and Ana had taken off a few ticks ago, which had been Fareeha’s only clue that the clutching was about to begin. The brownrider moved this way and that, trying to get a better view, until finally she peered through the farthest gap.

Angela was sitting on a bench at the edge of the sands. She looked strained, her cheeks flushed with the heat of the room, her hair held back in a bandanna. Sweat lines stood out on her skin. She held a cup of water in both hands, her gaze fixed on the doorway leading off to the entrance hallway instead of her dragon. 

_Raptorath?_ The brown, currently hanging most of his upper body off of his ledge in an attempt to look past the curtain, rumbled. She could hear him, inside and out of her head. _Tell Caudeth I am here?_

He was reluctant, so focused on the queen and her eggs that he didn’t even want to speak with his rider, but relented. She could see the exact second Caudeth relayed the message. Angela stood, setting her cup aside. She wiped her face with her shirt and walked briskly towards the hallway where visitors should have emerged from.

 _Raptorath, get her to tell Hers that I am in the wall!_ She saw Angela stop just short of the hallway, two guards stepping onto the sands, gripping their swords. There was a great deal of fury in the way Angela straightened and crossed her arms, but she turned away before the guards did. She paced along the wall, and Fareeha lost sight of her until she walked past her vantage point. “Angela,” she said, looking at the hallway and the guards now just visible at the end.

“Fareeha?” Angela stepped back, peering into the holes until she spotted the weyrleader. “By the egg…”. She struggled to keep her voice down, pressing her hands to the wall as though she might find a way through. “He said he would let you come to see her clutch,” she said, wiping at her own eyes.

“I asked. I was told I am still specifically prohibited from the sands.” She pressed her hand to the wall, wishing she could push through. “I couldn’t stay away.”

“Good. I’m glad.” Angela worked her fingers through one of the cracks, just barely able to brush Fareeha’s jaw.

Fareeha looked past her, to the gold turning slow circles. The dragon eyed her surroundings critically, then began to scrape her hind claws through the sand. “Has she been comfortable?” She asked, echoing her dragon’s worries.

Angela shook her head. “She is used to having her mate with her. There has been a lot of complaining.” Her smile was very faint and she wiggled her fingers until she could touch Fareeha’s hand again. 

“Raptorath has been beside himself for days,” Fareeha said, running her thumb over Angela’s fingertips. “You can see his head just outside.” Angela looked up, and they were both able to see the very edge of Raptorath’s chin in the fenced off entrance to the sands as he strained to see inside. “We’ve missed you.”

The gold’s kicking slowed and she paced backwards over the mound she’d created. “It’s time,” Angela murmured, pressing her other hand against the wall. “I should go to her…”

“Go.” Fareeha smiled, though it was insincere. She felt the loss of those fingertips as though a part of her body had been pulled away. Angela crossed the sands to Caudeth, reaching up to stroke the dragon’s head. She hummed to the gold and Caudeth echoed the notes. It was no surprise that Raptorath was next. Fareeha did not even try to stop herself from joining in-she knew it would be a matter of moments before the entire Weyr was crooning to the queen as she clutched. 

Fareeha watched in pride and sorrow. She had wanted more than anything to stand with Angela as the clutch was born. Until she’d come to Overwatch, she’d never believed Raptorath would sire a single egg. He might never win another goldflight, even here. The stalemate between herself and the lord holder only compounded her own desire to guard Angela and the eggs. Her frustration was palpable and she fought to stamp it down. Trying to calm herself, she watched Angela tending to the gold, stroking her eye ridges and talking to her aloud. Though she was still dirt streaked and exhausted, the goldriders devotion was more beautiful than anything Fareeha had ever seen. 

_How many eggs?_ Raptorath’s mental voice was strained with concern. _Are they healthy and large? Is there a gold?_

Stepping back from the wall for a moment, Fareeha tried to calm her dragon. _Ten,_ she told him. _And no gold. They are large. You have sired a fine clutch._

The brown gave up on hanging upside down. He leapt from the ledge to the ground, huffing at the blocked off entrance to the sands. _I want to turn them,_ he informed Fareeha, craning his neck over the barricade. Angela looked over her shoulder at him, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. “Raptorath. She’s not done, please,” she said, her wide-eyed gaze catching Fareeha through the holes in the wall. 

_Settle down,_ Fareeha ordered her dragon, moving along the gaps until she had a better look at the clutch in their nest of sand. Caudeth was using her forelegs to push around a separate section of the hatching sands, forming a smaller mound. “A gold?” she murmured as the dragon settled over the pile of sand and bunted her head into Angela’s chest. Angela sang to her and from outside and throughout the mountain the sound was carried by the dragons. Fareeha backed away from the gaps, shoving her way through the passage. Scorch the lord holder and his rules. She would not miss seeing this in person.

She raced along the halls. The guards at the entrance to the sands were too distracted by the miracle before them to notice her until it was too late. Fareeha bolted past them, the sands hot under her feet as she came to a halt just short of Angela. “A gold,” she repeated, awed, and Angela’s shoulders shook with happy sobs. 

“You were right,” the goldrider murmured to her dragon as Caudeth shifted to the side, revealing the gleaming egg to them both. “You did so well, love. So well.”

“A gold…” Fareeha clasped a hand over her mouth, turning towards Raptorath. “There’s a gold!” she shouted at him, their minds overflowing with glee. The dragon bugled with joy, starting a cacophony in the bowl. One of the guards dashed away from the hatching sands as Angela released Caudeth, turning to Fareeha just in time to be swept up in her arms. “Congratulations!”

“She’s amazing,” Angela said, catching Fareeha’s face in her hands, wiping away her tears and kissing her soundly. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Fareeha murmured back, holding her close. Oh they were going to pay for this, but it was already more than worth it. She felt hope again, a warmth she hadn’t had in months. She kissed Angela again and again, savoring each and every one.

“He’s going to be furious with you,” Angela said, burying her nose in Fareeha’s neck and taking a deep breath. She ran her fingers through the weyrleaders hair, and Fareeha felt something in her settle.

“I don’t care.” Fareeha kissed her temple. “We did something amazing.”

“We did.” Angela sighed, relaxing in her arms. Running footsteps in the corridor heralded the arrival of the guards and Fareeha tightened her hold on Angela. 

“Weyrleader,” one of them said, approaching her. Angela’s nails dug into her clothing and Fareeha pressed one hand against her shoulder in caution. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Give me a moment,” Fareeha said, nudging Angela’s nose with her own. She gave her one last kiss, firm and warm. “Congratulations,” she murmured. Angela closed her eyes and stepped back, letting Fareeha’s hands trail off of her.

“I want to meet with the lord holder,” Angela said, wrapping her arms around her own waist. To the guards it would have seemed like a moment of vulnerability. Fareeha saw the way Angela’s fingers clutched into her own elbows, the queenrider bringing her temper under control.

“We will relay the message,” another guard said, taking Fareeha by the arm. “You have to go,” the man continued, speaking directly to Fareeha. “Now.”

\-------------

Overnight, the mood in the heights changed. Before the clutching the dragonriders had existed in a state of constant vigilance, watching one another’s backs and spying on the holders where they could. With news of eggs on the sands and a gold among them, there was no holding back. The evening of the clutching had seen a wild, weyr-hopping party progress from high to low, lead by Zarya and a suspiciously large quantity of wine. W’Ton had joined Fareeha in a vigil at the shrouded entrance to the hatching sands, laughing with her as Raptorath climbed the mountainside to crane his neck inside and see his eggs. The guards shouted at them and waved swords at the dragon until Caudeth blustered them back to the cavern doors. Angela had found a seat near the curtain with her own bottle of wine and had celebrated along with them.

When dawn broke, bringing hangovers and minor regrets along with it, Fareeha was sitting against the barrier. W’Ton was slouched next to her, dozing with his head on his arms. Fareeha’s hand was linked with Angela’s under the curtain, the goldrider asleep on her side on the ground. Raptorath sat on his ledge, drifting in and out of sleep with a puffed chest and whirling blue eyes. The weyrleader was just beginning to follow her fellow rider into a nap when she spotted movement approaching. Leaning forward, she looked across the bowl.

A small group was approaching them, Lucio in his full regalia at their lead. He looked much more official in the blue of the harper hall, which was likely the point. The people behind him were crafters and holders, all of them young. Most looked hopeful, but upon noticing Fareeha looking at them, they withdrew to cluster closer with their fellows. She squeezed Angela’s hand, then regretfully released it to get to her feet.

“Weyrleader!” Lucio grinned, giving her a cheery salute. 

“Harper,” she answered as Angela woke with a groan behind the curtain. “What brings you here?” There was a rumble from above as Raptorath woke, then the brown hopped from the ledge to the ground. The impact shook W’Ton awake with a start, and blue Pebuth quickly joined the weyrleaders dragon. 

“This is weyrleader Fareeha,” the harper said to the youths at his back, giving them an encouraging smile as he gestured to her. “And that is Raptorath, her dragon. He’s the father of this clutch.” Hearing his name, the brown puffed his chest again.

 _Wherry,_ Fareeha said with a flood of affection. The dragon’s eyes whirled blue.

 _My gold will be the most beautiful gold on Pern,_ Raptorath informed her smugly. _I am not a wherry._

“Hello,” the brownrider said aloud, crossing her arms over her chest. Behind her she heard Angela wander off deeper into the sands, mumbling something about klah.

“Hello,” some of the young people answered. 

“We have come to be Searched, weyrleader,” Lucio said, standing proudly in front of them. “These people know what it means to be a dragonrider. We know the oaths and the stories, and we wish to become Candidates.”

“Searchrider W’Ton,” Fareeha said, turning to look at the stocky bluerider. “Please inspect these prospective Candidates.” He blinked at his abrupt promotion, then smiled broadly.

“Come over here,” he said with a gesture. “Stand by the wall.” Several of the youths attempted to peek into the sands as they moved past the blocked entrance. Fareeha stood in their way-Angela had little enough privacy, caged as she was. She deserved to be blocked from prying eyes. 

_Tell Pebuth to pass everyone who shows even a glimmer of inclination,_ she relayed to Raptorath. _We need them._

Above, she could see dragons craning their necks over ledges, including Aleksath. Some of the prospective Candidates spotted them as well, staring up in awe. Pride swelled in Fareeha’s chest as W’Ton and Pebuth began to move down the line. “By the golden egg of Faranth,” she recited, “by the weyrwoman wise and true…”

Lucio beamed as W’Ton clasped his hand, affirming his candidacy. “Breed a flight of bronze and brown wings,” he continued, gesturing to the other young people excitedly. “You all know this one! Come on!”

“Breed a flight of green and blue. Breed riders, strong and daring, dragon-loving, born as hatched. Flight of hundreds soaring skyward, man and dragon, fully matched,” the crowd chanted with bright optimism. Fareeha’s voice faded in the second stanza as fierce emotion overwhelmed her once again. These candidates would be taught well. The clutch would be healthy and strong. She would not let Lord Gabriel have them, no matter the price. Overwatch Weyr belonged to the dragonriders and she would see it returned to their hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My job is going to be crazy next week so I'm not sure how it will affect my writing/editing/posting schedule. I'm hoping to get chapters four and five up on time, but don't be too surprised if they're a little delayed!
> 
> "The Golden Egg of Faranth" is not my own work, it belongs to Anne McCaffrey.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


	4. Plans and Preparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Weyr's leadership arrives at a plan, but Lord Gabriel is being much too accomodating as of late. The future is unclear, so the dragonriders must live for right now.

Seeing the lord holder pleased was not a good sign. Fareeha, Angela and Zarya sat across from him as he tapped on one of the technocrafter tablets on his desk. They had been called in for a meeting two days after the clutching despite the protestations of the goldriders. The women had only agreed to come when the lord holder agreed to take down the barrier and allow Raptorath to guard the eggs on the sands. Aleksath had followed and blocked the entrance with her bulk, not coming any closer than necessary to Caudeth. 

Now they waited, as they had for the better part of an hour. Finally, the lord holder set aside the tablet, studying each of them in turn. “Congratulations on a fine clutch,” he said, directing the complement to Angela. She set her jaw, giving him no response.

“Why are we here?” Zarya asked bluntly, folding her hands together.

The lord holder looked her her. “You are here to do your duty. The wing is required to act in defence of the hall,” he said. “You will arm yourselves and go to clear away the infestation there as soon as possible.”

Fareeha leaned back in her seat, tempering her spike of anger. He had delayed this so long, had made constant excuses to her and to others and suddenly the hall was a priority again? “Why now?” She asked. He turned his attention to her and she met his gaze with an even stare. 

“Some of the crafters wish to stand for Impression. I believe you require more Candidates?”

“Properly Searched Candidates,” Angela said. “Not just anyone you want to stand.” Lord Gabriel did not look impressed by her acid tone, nor the way she leaned over to try to get a look at the tablet. He moved it out of her sight. 

“Once they can be assessed, Amelie will take Lacroith to see them.” The Lord Holder looked even less impressed what Zarya chortled at him.

“This is a joke. She is terrible choice for Search, no sense for it,” she said, shaking her head. “W’Ton is our Searchrider, he will choose.”

“We’ll need to appeal to the north as well,” Angela added. “For-”

“No,” Gabriel said, cutting her off. “Your candidates will come from the south. The north’s participation will be unnecessary. The dragons will have plenty to choose from here.”

Fareeha saw Angela tense. “If there aren’t enough suitable candidates, we must Search in the north,” the weyrleader interjected. “At the very least, we need to have twenty for the clutch and five for the queen. And they MUST be properly Searched. This is not a formality, Lord Gabriel, it is necessary for the dragons.”

Lord Gabriel sighed, then picked up the tablet. “And you’ve already selected eight?” he said.

“Yes,” Fareeha said. “W’Ton is meeting with the weyrfolk now. We expect another five.”

“Then I’m sure you’ll have success among the crafters.” Lord Gabriel smiled. It did not show in his eyes. “You have three days to scout and prepare. I have already arranged firestone delivery. Angela, you will be escorted to and from the infirmary on the day of the battle. I imagine your services will be needed.”

Fareeha heard Zarya’s chair creak. Lord Gabriel’s smile remained as something under his desk made a very audible click, then a whining sound. Angela leaned back in her seat. Fareeha and Zarya remained just where they were. “I hope for the sake of my fellow riders that isn’t true,” Angela replied with considerably more tact that her peers could have summoned.

Lord Gabriel shrugged. “I find it’s best to be prepared.”

\-------------

They walked together back to the sands, moving past the guards with barely a glare. Since the clutching, Fareeha and Zarya had been permitted to come and go during daylight hours, though they were banned after dinner. Ana was still inexplicably granted the freedom to leave or stay as she pleased at all hours. The holdfolk treated her like someone’s sweet grandmother, in direct contrast to their attitudes towards the younger dragonfolk. 

“He’s planning something,” Fareeha said, sitting on one of the benches.

Angela glanced at Caudeth, who lounged against Raptorath, her neck twined with his. She sat next to Fareeha, leaning against her. “Of course he is,” she murmured. Fareeha slid an arm around her shoulders and pressed a kiss to her temple.

“We must go.” Both women looked at Zarya, who was watching Aleksath shift and settle in the entrance. “The hall must be opened. It is our duty. They are our people.”

Fareeha and Angela exchanged a look. “We do need the Candidates,” Angela said, threading her fingers through Fareeha’s. “Especially the women.” She sighed, brushing her thumb back and forth. 

All three of them looked towards the gold egg, separated from the rest in the warmest part of the sands. “He cannot have her,” Zarya said bluntly, her voice low. “Not a gold.”

Fareeha’s hand tightened around Angela’s. “You’re both in enough danger. Imagine if he didn’t need you,” the weyrleader said. “But we can’t control who the dragon chooses.” All three women fell silent, staring at the gold egg.

“Who says?” The voice came from the couch. When they looked in that direction, they saw Ana making her way across the sands towards them. She glanced back over her shoulder, making certain the guards were not close enough to hear. It was the first time they’d had such an opportunity since the clutching.

“I have never heard of it working,” Zarya stated, looking at the other two women. “Plenty of rumors, plenty of beliefs, no proof. Touching the egg, luring the dragonet, songs, paints...”

“I have never heard of a woman on brown,” Ana countered, gesturing broadly to Fareeha. “And yet. I have never heard of a gold from a brown flight.” She nodded towards the egg. “And yet. I have never heard of a Weyr lead by women. And yet.” She stopped short of them. “We can try. It may not work, but if we do not try, we are not worthy of our dragons’ trust. That has always been the way at Overwatch, since J’Son and R’Hardt and I founded it.”

“Even if we do put a candidate of our choosing on gold, how do we ensure she doesn’t fall directly under Lord Gabriel’s influence?” Angela protested. “She has to train and eat and bathe the dragonet. We can’t simply sweep her away to a weyr until she’s matured enough to fly on her own.”

Fareeha studied Ana, who jutted her jaw with annoyance at the scrutiny. Angela was right, a young dragon had specific needs that couldn't be met locked in a cave. That assumed Lord Gabriel wouldn’t figure out a way to get to her-golds grew slowly. Could they really keep her safely in a weyr for the six months it would take to teach her to fly? An idea dawned as she looked over Ana’s knot and weyr patch. “We run,” Fareeha said, quietly as she could. It was so simple and so crazy that all three of the others simply gaped at her. “Hatchlings are small, even gold and bronze. There are eleven eggs, we have more than twice that in adult dragons.” She freed her hand from Angela’s, standing and looking towards the curtain. “If we put the larger hatchlings on our golds, bronze and browns, we’ll probably be able to give the smaller ones to the blues.”

Ana shook her head. “No, there is nowhere to go. We scouted the entire northern edge of the continent, there are no other mountains that would suit-”

“We don’t need a Weyr,” Fareeha interrupted, holding up one hand. “We just need a place that’s far enough away that men on foot can’t reach it in a day. Somewhere with shelter. Somewhere abandoned.” She met Zarya’s eyes. The goldrider shook her head slowly.

“The hold.” Fareeha nodded when Zarya spoke the words. The broader woman furrowed her brow in deep thought.

“Talon Hold?” Angela stood as well, taking a few steps back towards the gold egg. “It’s far too dangerous. The insects have overrun it, there’s no way we can be certain they’ve been adequately purged. Their venom could severely damage a hatchling pair, possibly permanently.”

Ana patted Fareeha’s arm. “But the weyrleader could send scouts and riders to inspect it. In search of supplies?”

“We are running very low on medical supplies,” Fareeha agreed. The grin she and Ana exchanged was nearly identical.

“Fareeha you nearly died the last time we were there,” Angela protested. “It is entirely overrun. We cannot go back to the hold. Please, there has to be somewhere else.”

“We will scout,” Zarya said, clapping a hand on Angela’s shoulder. “Not Fareeha, but others. We will find a place that will be out of their reach. This is the beginning of a good plan.”

“I don’t like it,” Angela said.

Fareeha kissed her on the temple. “It’s just a start,” she murmured. “We’ll try to find somewhere better.”

\-------------

The air was cold as high as she was. Fareeha had to keep her spyglass tilted so her breath didn’t fog it. It was her third pass over the hall with Raptorath and the landscape below was beginning to feel familiar enough to form a plan. 

There were fewer trees than there had been before. They had been clear cut for a click in every direction and what had been open ground used to land dragons and test equipment was now covered in silvery fernlike plants. Among them, she could see the ground-based insects moving, hard at work on whatever the colony's next objective was. The edges of the forest had been built up with mounds of dirt, each of these patrolled by the flying insects. L’Tel had made a few probing dives, but the motion of a dragon in the sky was not enough to provoke the insects into the air. 

Across part of the arched entrance to the hall, the creatures had built a grey, fragile-looking nest of some kind. The blast doors were still shut, but there were a worrying number of pockmarks in the metal surface. The nest stood half a dragonlength above the hall, broad at the base and tapered to the top. She did not like the implications of the thing. She sent L’Tel and W’Ton arcing away from her with orders to establish how far and in what directions the colony edges lay. They were not to engage, merely to rely on their dragons’ sight. 

She could make out three priorities-the flying insects, the ground level and the nest. Fareeha guessed that the priority of the entire swarm would be the structure. Whatever was inside was either food or young, things they would try to defend or evacuate if they could. She made continued passes over the core of the infestation, making mental note of the changes to the landscape below. It seemed likely that the flying insects were tucked away in the forest, hidden and waiting-they would need to fight in the air while doing some sort of strafing on the ground level to clear out the threadferns and the ground dwellers. She thought back to the way Angela’s flamethrower had exploded when Raptorath had flamed it. They couldn’t sacrifice another flamethrower, but perhaps some of the fuel? J’Rat and L’Tel would need to be consulted later. As former minecrafters (and current pyromaniacs in the former case) they would know best what could magnify a dragon’s flame on ground level. 

She almost wished the hall would send her some sort of signal, any indication that this mission would not be in vain. She could not imagine how devastating it would be to find that the lord holder had delayed them too long, that all of those brilliant minds had been sacrificed to his ego. It was doubtful she would be able to convince him to turn over any of the technocrafter weapons. As much as she hated the thought of handling the very thing that was being used to hold them captive, there must be one or two that would be of use against the insect horde.

Raptorath curved them around the inner perimeter of the ruined clearing. She could feel his instinctive offence at the scene below-at least convincing the dragons to flame wouldn’t be an issue. _What do you see?_ She asked him, studying a bunch of the palms and the bugs beneath.

_They are numerous. They eat the plants and the small beasts. They bring them to the Thread. They move in groups, not one by one._

Fareeha swept the spyglass across the field of silver, spotting a small, dense spot near the hall. Her lip curled and she tucked the spyglass into her jacket. _How are W’Ton and L’Tel,_ she asked as Raptorath took them higher. 

_They have mapped the border. There are four more nests._ He sent her the images the others had sent him, and she made sure to note their locations. _I do not want to stay._

_Back to the Weyr,_ she confirmed, taking a last look at the nest below. The feelers of the insects on its surface tracked Raptorath through the sky.

\-------------

How could anyone live on the hatching sands? 

Fareeha walked a circle on the platform that was Angela’s home for the time being. It was private, somewhat, since they’d erected a framework and draped some fabric around it to mark out a room of sorts. She had a desk and a slapped together sleeping platform. An old kitchen basket had her clean clothes in it, with a mesh bag being used to send her laundry to the drudges. In the area behind the stands, there was a tanners bucket and a basin for washing up. 

Though she was permitted visitors on the sands, Angela was not allowed to leave unescorted. Holder guards had the responsibility of walking her to and from the baths every day, which meant one of the trustworthy dragonriders had to attend to the sands while she was gone. The day before the assault on the hall belonged to Fareeha and Ana, who was off by the desk brewing klah. Fareeha pulled the linens off of the bed, replacing them with fresh ones and remaking the bed with careful precision.

“How is J’son?” she asked as she smoothed the last pillow in place. “Have he and Morth recovered?”

Ana stirred the klah clockwise, frowning into the jug. “They still have gaps. His vision has gotten worse again. Even those technocrafter gadgets aren’t helping as they did.” 

Fareeha shook her head. Whatever the holders had dosed J’son with had nearly sent he and Morth after R’Hardt and Wilheth. “It can’t have been fellis,” she said, glancing at Ana.

The older woman sighed. “No. They gave him a shot of something. There was a wound on his arm and on Morth’s hip.”

She did not like the idea of all of the unknowns the holders had in their possession, whether it was provided by the crafters or not. The technocrafter weapons were terrifying in a way nothing else was-a sword could be blocked, a knife or a club could be repelled by armor, but the beam of the technocrafter weapon was more potent than a flamethrower. She wanted them locked back in the hall, nowhere near anyone, dragonrider or civilian. 

“I believe it was insect venom,” Ana continued as she stirred the klah counterclockwise. “Though how they got enough to poison a bronze dragon…”

Fareeha picked up a broom from the corner, angrily shoving sand under the fabric walls. “Do we suspect Roadh now? Mei? Angela? They were the only ones who laid hands on the venom we have here. Is there really not a single person that we know won’t betray us?”

Ana gave her a rare sympathetic look. “I can’t tell you there is.” The spoon clunked against the side of the jug. “Because people are complicated. They want things, fear things. Lord Gabriel knows that. He uses what you want and what you fear against you.”

Fareeha swept harder, bending the broom. “Then what does he want? What does he fear? Because right now the only things we have I will not give him.”

“It would be easier if we knew where he was from,” Ana mused, peering into the jug.

“You don’t know?” Fareeha paused mid-stroke, looking at the goldrider. She had assumed Ana knew, that the retired rider would have shared any information she had on Lord Gabriel immediately. Even hearing what she didn’t know would have been helpful. 

“Once the Weyr was established, we sent word to the holders. We asked if anyone wanted to stead on the land nearby if we helped them clear it and bring in the materials they might need. We would fight Thread for them, and they would tithe to us. The usual deal.” Ana poured a cup of klah, then sipped it. “So they held a vote and sent him with some settlers. He was young, but so were we. If I recall, he came from around Benden, though J’Son claimed the Lord of Benden at the time didn’t have a son to send.”

The general story was familiar, though the details weren’t. Fareeha cursed herself again for not asking sooner, and doubly so Ana for not bringing it up. “J’Son didn’t recognize him?” Fareeha grimaced when Ana rolled her eyes. “Right. Blind. I forgot.”

“He sent the tithes, we flew Threadfall. It was simple. It’s only since Zarya came and the hall opened that he’s changed.”

Fareeha returned to sweeping. “That isn’t Zarya’s fault,” she grumbled.

“And I did not say it was.” Ana sat on the edge of Angela’s bed, drinking from the cup. “She’s hardheaded and arrogant, but she knows her duties.”

“Is that what you say about me too?” Fareeha pushed the last of the dirt off of the platform, half-smiling. 

“Oh no. Much worse,” Ana replied. Fareeha shot her a look, but the former weyrwoman simply met her gaze with a smirk and took a longer drink.

The clamour of armoured footsteps along the hall to the caverns broke their concentration. Angela’s voice was clear as she approached. 

“You will come no further than the entryway. I don’t want you influencing the clutch,” she lectured. The guards stopped where they were told and Caudeth crooned as she spotted her rider. “Ana? Fareeha? Are you still here?” Angela called in the direction of the tent.

“We are,” Ana answered, rising and taking her mug with her. “I am just about to go to the baths myself.” She walked out with a knowing smile and Fareeha’s cheeks darkened as she put the broom away. “So you will have the weyrleader all to yourself.”

A corner of the cloth was pulled aside and Angela stepped in, fresh from the baths. She dropped her towel, robe and toiletry bag to one side, hurrying to wrap her arms around Fareeha. “I had hoped we would have some time,” she murmured, leaning up to kiss her on the cheek. “Before you have to fight again.”

“Not too much,” Fareeha replied, guiding Angela’s lips to her own. The kiss soothed them both, tempering nerves Fareeha didn’t even realize were frayed. Angela gripped her shirt, breathed deeply through her nose, then leaned into her hard. Fareeha stumbled, catching Angela’s hip and shoulder for balance. 

“I need you,” Angela murmured before kissing her again. Fareeha’s chest panged and her hands tightened on Angela’s body. She waited for her to say more, but there was no gap between kisses. The goldrider stepped into her again, pushing her along towards the bed. 

“They’ll hear,” Fareeha murmured, sliding her hand up and under Angela’s shirt. She felt the other woman hum, then she was pushed back another step. Her leg collided with the side of the bed. Angela’s thigh pressed between hers, then Fareeha bent her knees and eased them both down onto the hard mattress.

“They won’t do anything,” Angela murmured. Fareeha’s heart skipped and she grinned as Angela descended to kiss her again. “If we’re quiet.”

\-------------

They had not been quiet.

Angela’s temple was pressed to Fareeha’s chest, listening to her heart. Her pale fingers traced lines between the bite scars as she closed her eyes. “Have they decided what to do about us yet?” she asked, kissing her collarbone.

Fareeha shrugged, splaying her hands out over Angela’s spine. She half-listened to the conversation between the distant guards but she could not concentrate on anything farther than the golden halo of hair on her chest. “Definitely a fine,” she murmured. “One mark per shout.”

“Is that all?” Angela smiled. Fareeha sighed, feeling her hair tickle across her throat. “I need to catch up.”

Her hand was caught before it moved from its position over the worst of the bite marks. Fareeha stroked Angela’s arm until she relented, leaving her hand where it was. “Stay,” she said, her throat suddenly thick. The next day was abruptly enormous. Her heart thudded faster and Angela went still and quiet in response. The silence drew out, Fareeha trying to memorize every detail.

“You’ll be fine,” Angela whispered. It was not a reassurance but an uncertain statement. Fareeha’s eyes shuttered. Though she was more prepared for the battle and the insects were no longer the mystery they had been, there was always a chance of something going wrong. Lord Gabriel had given them so many concessions he had to have a plot coming to fruition soon. They didn’t know enough, weren’t prepared enough to fight an enemy that was and wasn’t Thread, on the ground and in the sky. It was not going to be an easy day.

“You need to be ready, if I’m-”

Angela lunged suddenly over her, kissing her hard. “No,” she said firmly, pushing her hands into Fareeha’s hair. “No. None of that. Not now.” Fareeha half-sat, ready to argue, but Angela’s eyes brimmed over and her next kiss tasted of salt.

“Angela.” Catching her chin in one hand, the brownrider slowed them down, savoured the other woman’s lips.

“No.” Angela wrapped herself bodily around Fareeha, pushing her lips against her neck. “Don’t say it. I know. I don’t want to think of it while you’re here or I won’t let you leave. And I know...you do have to leave.”

Fareeha felt teeth on her pulse and pulled the furs over them completely. The darkness smelled of sweat and sex and sweetsand. “Then tell me what tomorrow morning would be, if it were perfect.”

Angela’s bite loosened to a kiss. Fareeha ran her hands along her back, feeling the muscle she’d built and the thin scars that lingered from her lashes. “We would be at Fort. And it would be turns end.”

Fareeha chuckled with surprise. “Turns end is a month away. And Fort is freezing.”

“You said perfect,” Angela retorted. “I liked the weather there. Especially if you were there to keep me warm.”

“Alright. So. Fort, at turns end.”

The tension in Angela’s back eased. Fareeha felt her breathing change as she squirmed lower so she could rest her head on Fareeha’s chest again. “We would wake up because the drudges brought a tray of turns end pastries with the klah. Warm from the ovens, full of spice and fruit.”

“We get a whole tray?” Angela swatted her lightly on the opposite shoulder. “Are we earning it?”

“Of course.” Fareeha’s hand wandered over Angela’s waist as she spoke. “We eat in bed. Caudeth and Raptorath are on the sands, tending to their second clutch…”

“Second? Is there another gold?”

Angela smiled. “Of course. They dote on her. Eventually we get up, to exchange our turns end gifts.”

“Hmm.” Fareeha burrowed her nose into Angela’s hair, taking a long breath of her scent. “I might have to dash off. I forgot to get you something.”

“No, you didn’t.” Angela’s fingers played over the scars again. “I got you leathers with better armor and a tool belt to go with your new work table.”

“How did you sneak a table into our weyr without me noticing?”

“You were out getting my gift. And then I distracted you.”

“Ah, I see.” Fareeha began to massage what little tension was left in Angela’s shoulders away. 

“So? What did you get me?” 

Fareeha was silent, thinking about the question in the dim light. She’d barely had turns end celebrations at Telgar-the only person who gifted her anything was J’Cree and it was always alcohol or things to keep alcohol in. She felt Angela move from fresher scars to older ones and thought about the traders she’d dealt with and the crafters whose work she’d studied. Her smile grew. “I didn’t get you anything.” 

Angela’s eyes fluttered when she pouted. Fareeha couldn’t help her giggle. “After all the trouble I went to with the table,” Angela muttered and Fareeha laughed in earnest, her arms tightening around the other woman. 

“I made you something.” When Angela tilted her head upwards, Fareeha bent her neck and kissed her on the forehead. “A wood and golden torc, with Raptorath worked on your left and Caudeth worked on your right.” She ran her thumb along Angela’s neck. “A good steel knife in a sturdy sheath.” Her other hand slid against Angela’s thigh. “And a coin.”

She could tell Angela had heard the way her heart thudded on the last. The other woman looked up at her curiously. “Just a mark? I do have a salary of my own,” Angela said lightly. “Would I have to buy my own gift?”

“It was a thing at Telgar. Mostly the holderborn did it,” Fareeha said, trying to escape that penetrating look. “Because that’s how they got rings for handfastings, hammering out a coin. So riders would carve a mark-you couldn’t spend it because it had been carved, but you’d give it to someone.” She glanced at Angela, saw the smile growing on her face, and looked away again. Her cheeks burned. “Not quite a handfasting. Because it wouldn’t be fair. But...a way to tell someone…”

Angela raised herself over Fareeha again, kissing her deeply. Relief washed through her when she felt that smile pressed to her lips. “I would love to carry your mark,” the goldrider said into Fareeha’s mouth. Tomorrow was meaningless once again-she imagined the snap of the Fort winter taking its place and let herself follow the notion into Angela’s arms again.  


\-------------

Fareeha studied the wing diagram in front of her, then looked up at the riders arrayed in the bowl. Preparing for threadfall was one thing. Thread came from one direction, in predictable patterns. There was time to adapt on the fly, since it wasn’t a sentient organism...or so they’d believed. Fighting the insects was different. They had an upper limit on their flight, but dragons had to descend to their level to flame them. Getting within reach meant getting close enough to be bit, and she did not want to risk losing a single pair to the fever of the creatures venom.

They’d adapted their tactics as much as they could, but she and Zarya were as prepared as they could be to make up new ones on the fly. J’Rat and a small cadre of greens were going to attempt a series of bombardments with mining explosives, escorted by blues whose purpose would be clearing their path. Two strike forces of greens and blues would engage the peripheral nests with high-speed dive and move assaults while the largest dragons, the browns and gold, would concentrated their flames on the central nest. Ideally, they would disperse the insect forces enough to keep their numbers manageable. If not, they would simply regroup and work in top-to-bottom layers, destroying the flying insects, then the nests and ground force afterwards.

_Send Lacroith to point,_ she instructed Raptorath. The dragon gave the order and the patchy blue stepped to the fore as directed. Amelie’s disinterested gaze passed over her fellow riders, then settled on Raptorath’s chest. _Pebuth to mid. Jeth to mid. Loreth to low._ The dragons, with their riders, adjusted their positions. Fareeha looked them over again, then folded the diagram and tucked it into a pocket of her jacket. She smoothed the thick leather, checking where it met her gloves and her new neck protection. This would be the first real trial for the newly designed armor. Angela’s design for Lena had been adapted and many of the riders had responded to the issued chest and neck plates by painting them in an approximation of Oxtoth’s green. There had been such demand that it took a whole day for Fareeha to get her hands on the pigment.

_Aleksath’s believes we are ready,_ Raptorath informed her. She tightened her straps once more, then patted the brown on the neck. 

_Confirmed._ Once Raptorath relayed the message, Fareeha sat back in her saddle, turning to watch Aleksath as the giant gold stalked up alongside her. 

“Today we do not fly against Thread,” Zarya said. The wing’s chatter ceased, all eyes trained on the weyrwoman. “We fight our new enemy. We retreated last time. We will destroy them this time. We are the defenders of Pern.” She swept her gaze over the assembled riders. “And you men and women are the best of those defenders. Overwatch Weyr will retake the hall, I do not doubt this. Our dragons are strong. We riders are smart. These creatures will fall before our might!”

The riders shouted their approval as weyrfolk emerged from the caverns, firestone bags in tow. This was a duty that could not be given to the holders. Only weyrfolk and dragonriders were familiar enough with firestone to prepare what the dragons would need for flight. The riders were cheered by the sight of their long-cut-off friends and compatriots, shaking their hands and slapping their backs as the bags were delivered. Fareeha heard the shift of the wings mood, from grim readiness to boisterous excitement. They would fight well together.

She clasped the hand of the man who tied Raptorath’s bags, thanked him for his help, then opened one and dug for a good sized chunk. The others did the same, turning their attention expectantly to Zarya as the weyrfolk returned to the caverns. She tossed Aleksath a chunk of firestone, then raised one arm. The dragons crouched, the riders took hold of their straps. Two breaths passed, then the gold lunged into the air, her great wings snapping open and pushing her higher with mighty strokes. “We fly!” Zarya bellowed above; the dragons of the Weyr followed in her wake. 

Fareeha risked a single look back, spotting Udjath in the entrance to the sands just before Raptorath swept them between.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never be an accountant unless you really like meetings and paperwork and more meetings and more paperwork and more paperwork and did I mention the meetings?
> 
> Next chapter by the end of the weekend, but then I'm off into the wilderness of the paperwork once more, so there will be another delay!


	5. Allow It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hall is saved, but at a terrible cost.

Emerging from between, Fareeha oriented herself and Raptorath in Zarya’s direction, watching to be sure the other strike teams peeled away. The gold had the larger dragons moving towards the eastern edge, which would give them the shortest path towards the nest built over the hall. Ahead, she could see insects rising into the air, watching their approach. Raptorath turned his head and she gave him another chunk of firestone. 

_We follow Aleksath,_ Raptorath told her, banking as the mighty queen did. Fareeha glanced back to confirm that the rest of the browns followed, then checked her faceplate and neck protection. She hunkered low against the dragon’s neck, feeling his chest swell as he prepared to breath fire. 

_Keep to the side,_ Fareeha told him, watching as the first of the flanking dragons flamed into a knot of insects over one of the sub-nests. Nervousness she didn’t realise she was holding released when all of them swooped high, trailed by some of the insects. They all flew strong and fast. She breathed out into her faceplate, smiling with relief. 

_We strike!_ Aleksath drove herself high in front of them, then folded her wings and plummeted towards the hall. Raptorath arched smoothly behind her, his excitement growing as the nest loomed beneath them. The relieved smile became a fierce grin when Aleksath flamed ahead of them, blasting a rising cluster of insects into cinders. 

_Flame at will,_ Fareeha ordered, digging for more firestone as Raptorath’s chest compressed and fire shot through the air. She saw it lick over the nest, catch, flare, then they were past the target, flying into the thick of the protecting swarm. Raptorath’s roar bore flames, and the scorched chitin flew past her armored face. A few of the bugs caught on his wings and tail as they curved skyward again.

They did not need to confirm the next step. Fareeha caught a quick breath, then the dragon took them between. He held them longer than usual, letting the insects freeze in the blackness, then they emerged high above the fray. The heat, even as high as they were, brought a blush to Fareeha’s skin. She dared a look across the forest, just as a wedge of greens lead by a blue darted across the clearing in front of the hall. J’Rat rained armloads of small bundles across the pale ferns, then the greens behind him dove and flamed. 

Some of the insects rose to assault the dragons, but the whole group vanished between as the armaments exploded. Distant cheers carried on the wind to her side as J’Rat and his cadre returned and saw the inferno they’d started. _Tell them to press the advantage,_ Fareeha told Raptorath, craning her neck to confirm the nest they had flamed was still ablaze. _Another barrage, then they can move to the northmost nest._

The brown crunched through the handful of firestone she gave him, then another. _Southern nest is destroyed,_ he reported as the gases built in his chest. Aleksath and the other browns dove for their target and Fareeha urged Raptorath after them. _Southwestern burns._ She tucked herself tight at the bottom of their dive, peering at the exposed innards of the nest when Raptorath’s fire blew it open. It looked like a wasps nest torn in half, honeycombed with cells whose contents she couldn’t make out. 

To her left, the clearing roared with explosions, Raptorath just barely catching the updraft to push himself away. _A little too close._ Fareeha watched the fire flare behind them. Another dive and the nest would be in ashes-the ground level insect defense was already destroyed by J’Rat’s bombardment. She heard a cry from the west, but no following keen, so breathed a sigh of relief. 

_Mine?_

Fareeha frowned at the tone of her dragon's mental question. He sounded worried, a state she did not want to experience in the middle of combat. _Raptorath?_

_Aleksath is gone?_

She stood in the straps, balancing as his wing strokes took them higher. There had been no keen, no sign that the gold had been felled and Zarya abandoning a fight was simply unbelievable. _Where?_

_I cannot hear her?_ Raptorath curved them around in a broad circle and both Fareeha and the brown spotted the great gold at the same moment. She was blasting fire and flapping towards the forest, her head whipping from side to side. A cloud of airborne bugs surrounded her, assaulting the dragon from every angle.

_Where is Hers?_ It seemed like a silly question. The great flamethrower was just visible through the throng. Insects swarmed around the rider, who smashed at them with her gigantic weapon.

_Hers has been bitten,_ Raptorath reported, tucking his wings and sending them down towards the floundering queen. _Hers loses her voice,_ he added.

Fareeha’s eyes widened. _Catch her,_ she said, just as Aleksath pitched to the side, flailing a wing to throw loose her insect assailants. She grabbed for a foothold, missed and Fareeha saw ichor splatter on the trees, recalling how she felt when the insect toxins flooded through her own body. The slow fade of her connection to Raptorath had been torture.

Raptorath flung himself towards the great queen, who flinched away from him and smashed into another tree with her shoulder. Zarya’s bellow of pain was audible even from Fareeha’s height. “Hang on!” Fareeha shouted to her as Aleksath snatched at another tree, snapping it under her weight. The gold smashed to the forest floor, screaming in agony as the destroyed trunk slashed her wing sail into tatters. 

Raptorath breathed fire ahead of and behind her, blasting away a sudden rush of insects. _Call in L’Tel and Neth,_ Fareeha ordered. _Then land._ She saw the swarm fixating on the downed gold-there would be very little time to save her if they were not quick. _We guard Aleksath with L’Tel, the wing completes the assault._ She fed him as much firestone as he could take as he found them a landing spot. Raptorath dropped them to the forest floor with a thud, tucking back his wings so Fareeha could leap free the moment she had her straps off. A blaze roared to life all around them as Raptorath laid down a protective line of fire.

“Zarya?” Fareeha sprinted towards the struggling queen and rider.

“I can’t hear her!” Zarya was also free of her straps, one arm flung around her dragon’s neck, the other pointing her flamethrower off into the trees. “Fareeha I cannot hear any of them! The dragons are gone!”

Fareeha searched the trees for signs of an immediate attack. Raptorath had left them a solid circle of flame, though the dampness would put it out very soon. She could hear wings overhead and was faintly aware that Raptorath was explaining things to L’Tel’s dragon. “The wing is still fighting,” she said, holding up her hands and slowing her approach. Zarya sagged against Aleksath’s shoulder, raking her fingers against the gold’s hide.

“Fareeha I can’t hear her. She’ll go between,” the woman shouted. She tried to right herself and failed, her obviously injured leg giving way immediately. “Please!”

The flamethrower had to be taken first. Fareeha grabbed for it, keeping the fire pointed to the sky. There was a burst of heat as Zarya pulled the trigger, then another as Raptorath and L’Tel’s dragon showered the forest around them with fire. “Let go,” Fareeha said, smacking Zarya on the shoulder, then the cheek. “Weyrwoman. Drop the flamethrower.”

“I can’t hear them. I can’t hear her,” Zarya rambled, loosening her grip on the giant weapon. Fareeha grabbed it with both hands, easing it to the ground before finding the switches that would turn it off and cut the fuel supply. Aleksath’s flailing brought her head around and she fixed a bright yellow eye on Zarya. On spotting her rider, the dragon crooned in a panic. 

“Sit. Keep her close,” Fareeha instructed, eyeing the weyrwoman’s leg with great concern. Report?

_Four nests burn. One remains,_ Raptorath informed her. _One group protects us. The others attack the last nest._ There was some pride there, but mostly concern for the queen who thrashed on the forest floor. 

“I need to see your injuries,” Fareeha said, clasping Zarya’s shoulder as the larger woman pressed her face against her dragon’s cheek. “Sit.”

Zarya sank to the ground, clinging to Aleksath. “I do not feel anything,” she rasped, though her face went white when she tried to use her injured leg to slow her descent. “I will be fine.”

“Yes you will.” The weyrleader managed to sound optimistic in spite of finally spying the blood that seeped through Zarya’s dark armor. The insects had taken several large bites of her and now that she’d finally slowed down, the delirium was definitely settling in. “For now you should rest.”

“It’s too cold.” Zarya grabbed at Aleksath’s shoulder and the dragon squealed with pain. “Oh shells,” she moaned, wrapping her arm around Aleksath’s neck instead. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

_Get Pebuth here with His. They will need to take care of the weyrwoman,_ Fareeha instructed Raptorath. The brown relayed her message as she crouched next to Zarya. “I am going to open the hall,” she said. “Concentrate on Aleksath. Hold her close.”

Zarya’s eyes rolled and she butted her head against her dragon's. “Still here. Stay here,” she muttered.

W’Ton landed carefully in the flaming perimeter, sliding off of Pebuth’s neck and jogging to Zarya and Fareeha. “What can I do?” He asked, crouching next to the women.

“Watch her. Talk to her. Get anyone with a dragonhealing kit over here with numbweed and a splint. Keep her and Aleksath here until we can take them back to the Weyr,” Fareeha told him, rising to her feet. “Alert me if anything changes.”

He nodded and she called Raptorath back to her. _I will open the hall,_ she told him. _You will guard Aleksath with Pebuth and Neth._ A few more handfuls of firestone loaded him up, then she swung aboard for the brief hop to the front of the hall.

\-----------------

The field surrounding the hall was a scorched, pitted disaster, but it had been purged completely of the bugs and threadferns. After sending the injured who could make the journey back to Overwatch, Fareeha set up the remaining greens on a rotating watch of the jungle and sent the rest to form a full guard around Aleksath, then approached the scorched but intact hall doors. The nest had been burned away, the ashy remnants cleared by riders using leaves from the jungle trees. 

She studied the metal, looking for a latch or a button to press to gain entry. There was nothing she could see, so instead she raised a fist and began hammering on the door. The rhythm was one she recalled the drummers from the harper hall using to sound the all clear after threadfall. She beat on the door until her fist went numb, then stepped back.

Several ticks of silence went past. Fareeha was just raising her other hand to begin again when something inside of the structure made a long wheeze. The door popped open, just wide enough for a single man to walk through, then Roask emerged. The brown wher was broad and stumpy, sniffing the air in front of him with exaggerated movements. He made a soft whuffling noise when he sniffed towards the forest, then he clomped up to Fareeha and fixed her with a suspicious look.

“Your handler,” Fareeha directed to the wher. “Tell him what you see.”

The creature huffed again, took a deep breath of the ashy air, then thudded back towards the open door. “Come,” called a deep, masculine voice from inside. Fareeha squared herself up and followed the wher into the hall.

The lights were dim, nearly out. There were no wandering crafters in the main hallway, only Roadh waiting for her a few steps from the door. “Who else is here?” She asked, taking off her faceplate so she could speak more clearly.

He gave her a long look, then shrugged one shoulder and looked past her. “You bring J’Rat?”

She narrowed her eyes at the wherhandler. “Roadh, take me to the mastercrafter. I’ll relieve J’Rat of his patrol once I’ve contacted her.”

“Master Satya said all dragonriders meet with the harper first.”

Fareeha stared, uncomprehending, for a moment. Months locked away, buried under a hive of ravenous insects, and this was the greeting the crafters gave the people who’d been sent to help them? A churlish wherhandler acting like nothing had changed?

“Then take me to Sombra,” Fareeha amended. The wherhandler made a gesture to his beast, then walked down the long corridor.

\-----------------

The hall was larger than she’d ever known it to be. She’d imagined that the place stopped after a dragonlength or so, but they walked for almost two before Roadh came to a halt in front of a door along the main hall. So deep underground, Fareeha expected the place to smell more of earth, but it maintained a faint scent like the highest parts of the sky all the way. Once they were past the large labs, the hall had narrowed, the doors coming closer together. The one he finally stopped her in front of had some writing on it, but it was so ancient she couldn’t decipher its meaning. 

“Journeyman Sombra?” Fareeha stood almost at attention by the door. Roadh glanced at her, then shuffled off a few paces to lean against the wall.

“Oh, who could that be?” She heard from beyond the smooth door. “Is it really my day? Did some dashing young rider come to rescue me from my prison?” The door pulled inward and slid to one side, revealing Sombra. The harper was inexplicably dressed better than she had been the last time Fareeha saw her, wearing a tunic made out of a fabric Fareeha had only previously seen composing gather dresses, and a pair of very tight pants. Her boots looked brand new too, shining in the soft light of the corridor. “So how does this go, I throw myself into your arms, you carry me out over the threshold and then we break up six months later because you never bring me klah in the morning anymore? Or am I giving you too much credit? Would it be more like three months because you can’t get your face out of-”

Fareeha exhaled through her nose. “Where is the master crafter,” she interrupted as Sombra leaned against the doorjamb and smirked.

“Straight to business, hm? No chatty chat for your friend the harper?”

“We’re not friends. I need to speak with Satya.”

“Oh.” Sombra took a deep, hitching breath and Fareeha’s jaw clenched so hard she swore her teeth were about to crack. “If that’s all I am to you,” the harper pouted. “Just a font of information, no affection, no banter…”. She trailed off when Fareeha’s heel scraped on the floor and she turned to leave. “She’s in the sendep,” the harper announced, annoyed. She rolled her eyes. “Went in as soon as stuff started blowing up. You are just no fun at all.”

“For a woman who’s been trapped underground for three months, you’re in high spirits,” Fareeha said. “I’m glad to see the isolation hasn’t been hard on you. Where and what is ‘sendep’?”

“Sensory deprivation?” Sombra replied in a tone that suggested Fareeha was the odd one for not knowing. “Two doors back, you can’t miss it,” she said. “I’m sure she’ll be real happy to see you.”

“Be well,” Fareeha snapped back to her, turning on her heel to leave. _How is Aleksath?_

_Sick. She cannot hear or speak, only see. It will be difficult to carry her. She bleeds._

Fareeha strode down the hall to the door Sombra had indicated. _Send a messenger to the Weyr. We need Morth. Even if J’son can’t see, his dragon can help you carry._

_I am very strong,_ Raptorath replied indignantly. 

_She is very big. Ask him to help._

The dragon pouted at her, but relented. She knocked on the door, offhandedly glancing at the tablet on the wall next to it, then blinked and studied it harder.

The pictures on the tablets changed regularly. Dragonriders and technocrafters had noted that they were images from the immediate area outside of the hall, though how they were transcribed so perfectly was a mystery. This one caught her attention because, centred in the image, was a rider astride a dragon. Specifically Lena, aboard Oxtoth. The messenger had spent plenty of time between the hall and the Weyr, so it wasn’t surprising to see her in the images the strange building captured. 

What was surprising was the perfectly round hole in Oxtoth’s wing.

The door pulled inward as Fareeha leaned closer to the tablet and a very annoyed voice said, “Weyrleader.”

Fareeha stepped back, looking at the speaker. “Master Satya. It is good to see you alive.”

Satya looked past her, towards the room Sombra had been in, then turned and stepped back through the door. “You look well,” she said flatly when Fareeha followed. Like Sombra, her clothes were new, well-fitted and brightly coloured. The fashion was unlike anything Fareeha had seen from the weavers. She wondered again where they’d obtained the items, locked away as they were.

“The hall is opened,” Fareeha said, trying to regain her mental footing. This made no sense. They had expected gratitude, desperation, even anger, not mild annoyance. And where were the other crafters? Where were Hana and Mei?

“I see that.” Satya spoke without a trace of sarcasm. “You took almost three months to do it. I assume you need something from us.” The mastercrafter stepped closer to a giant pod that took up the center of the room. For a moment Fareeha wondered if it was an insect egg, then Satya opened one half of it, revealing a dimly lit bath inside. 

“Lord Gabriel delayed us,” Fareeha explained. “He would not let us come to your aid.”

Satya blinked once. “But you are dragonriders. You do not have to ask his permission.”

Fareeha frowned. “He used some of your weapons to hold dragonriders hostage to get what he wanted. He is still doing that. He has given them to holders who-”

“For personal protection. I was told about an incident. Dragonriders can be very emotional.”

“A holder stabbed a dragonrider. He died.” Fareeha watched Satya step into the water in the bath. “You need to return with us, master Satya. Your inventions are being misused and your crafters misled.”

Satya stared into the water at her feet. “It has been nearly a hundred days, weyrleader,” she said, kneeling. “I have been told how you have stalled and delayed. I know what you really want here. You want to take my apprentices and make them dragonriders.”

Fareeha sighed. “Yes. We need to Search among your apprentices and journeymen, but Master Satya, please understand I have been trying to liberate this hall since the day it was sealed. This is not something I ask lightly, this is the duty of all men and women of Pern. What can I do to prove my sincerity? How can I show you that this delay is not my doing?”

“You can’t,” came a voice from the door. Fareeha’s shoulders straightened. “That’s just it, you can’t. None of you can prove you wanted to be here, to help us,” Sombra said. “Because you weren’t. You didn’t.” Satya turned away from both of them, resting her hands on the surface of the water. She may not have had the sensitivity of a bluerider, but Fareeha could tell any goodwill she’d built with the master crafter had just been ripped out from under her.

Fareeha closed her eyes for a moment, reviewing her options. Shouting had never worked on the master crafter. They were of equal rank-she could not just order Satya to do as she said. She had to change tactics and by the First Egg she hoped it would work. “On the day of the attack, Master Satya, who approved the packing of the loads for Morth and Aleksath, who were intended to escort you to the Weyr?” Sombra shot her a sideways look.

“I did,” Satya answered sternly, still facing away. 

“No one else? None of the evacuated crafters or those who are still here?” Fareeha crossed her arms, pointedly watching the technocrafter instead of the harper.

“Hey now, this is a little rude-”. Sombra stepped in front of Fareeha, between she and Satya. “Don’t go making any wild accusations, dragonrider,” the harper said, her tone suddenly dangerous. Her expression had lost all its merriment. 

“Harper, did you approve the packing of the loads for the dragonriders who were evacuating the technocrafters to the Weyr?”

Sombra set her jaw. “No, I did not,” she said.

Fareeha nodded. This was a huge risk. This could get her in a lot of trouble. But Zarya was critically injured and Angela was imprisoned. This was a maneuver she had to make. “Then as weyrleader it is my duty to arrest you, Master Satya, for the attempted murder of a goldrider, and the accidental death of wingsecond J’Cree.” She stepped past Sombra, offering one hand to Satya. “I do not have any chains, master crafter. You’ll just have to walk with me.”

The master crafter turned. Her eyes were wide, but her expression was otherwise neutral. “No.”

“I will carry you if I need to,” Fareeha said bluntly. “I do not want to do that.”

“You can’t be serious,” Sombra laughed without humor.

Satya rose to her feet and stepped out of the bath. “I will need some time.”

“Designate a representative. You have admitted to a serious crime. You must come with me now.” She had the authority to do this, but it was delicate ground. Weyrleaders who made these accusations usually weren’t in such politically precarious positions and the technicalities surrounding actually ‘arresting’ a master crafter in her own hall were slightly beyond her. On the other hand, as long as she could keep Sombra off-balance, this was her only chance to pull Satya out of her circle of influence. She just had to do it a little more literally than most would have. _Raptorath? Did Morth come?_

_He and the others have taken Aleksath and Hers._

Satya frowned. “May I change?”

Fareeha shook her head. She could see the reality of the situation settling with Sombra and she could not give her a chance to recall the details of the law or the charter. “I have a blanket. Designate a representative to manage the hall in your absence and to gather the things you will need while you are being held. Then come with me.” _Come to the hall entrance. Tell Unketh and Erroth that Theirs are in charge of finding J’Cree’s remains and anything that is left of Aleksath’s old straps and what is attached to them and bringing it all to me._

Satya tried to look past her to Sombra. Fareeha stepped in and closed one hand around her forearm. The mastercrafter wouldn’t bruise from the grip, but it was warning enough. “Sombra, tell Mei that she is in charge until I come back,” Satya said to the harper. “I will go with the weyrleader. I am certain the lord holder will see to my immediate return.”

“I’m contacting my hall,” Sombra told Satya. “Right now. You’re not getting away with this.”

“Good,” Fareeha answered, taking a step back. Satya followed reluctantly, slipping her feet into sandals by the door. “I look forward to the response from Fort Weyr. They know where to find me.”

\-----------------

Overwatch was in a controlled sort of chaos when Raptorath brought them in for a landing near the infirmary. To her great relief, the dragonhealers were already working on Aleksath in the bowl, Udjath standing over her authoritatively. Healers in proper craft colours emerged with other weyrfolk to meet her. For a moment it seemed as though everything was back to normal, then a holder wearing a knot she didn’t recognize pushed through the crowd to look at her and her passenger.

Satya was not the usual picture of grace and dignity that they had seen before. She had wrapped herself completely in the provided blanket, only exposing what was necessary to strap her into place on dragonback. The holder spotted her, squinted at her face, then shoved his way back to the caverns. “The hall has been rescued,” Fareeha announced to the gathered weyrfolk. “But mastercrafter Satya has admitted to interfering with Aleksath’s ability to fly, an action which resulted in the death of Wingsecond J’Cree. I have brought her here so that she may be tried for her crimes against the Weyr.”

The crowd rippled with consternation at the news. “What will you do with her?”

Fareeha looked at the holder who had spoken. “She will have a weyr to herself, in the heights, until other arrangements can be made.”

“Where is Sombra?”

“She stayed behind at the hall. It is safe now, the insects have been cleared away. There will be dragonriders posted to maintain that safety. Journeyman Mei is in charge of the craft until Master Satya has seen trial. Tomorrow, crafters who wish to return will be allowed to go.” At the rear of the crowd, she saw the lord holder moving through, the weapon in his hand. She straightened her back and urged Raptorath to pace to the side, putting her body between Lord Gabriel and Satya. “Lord holder,” she said as he reached the front of the crowd. “I’m certain someone will catch you up on my announcement.”

He moved the weapon and the crowd recoiled. There was a breathless silence, then Fareeha tapped Raptorath with one heel. He leapt skyward, taking his rider and her guest towards the empty weyrs near the heights. She was sure the weapon was tracing her path, but she did not turn back. “I will bring you extra furs and some spare clothes,” she said as Raptorath alighted on an unused ledge. “You will be assigned a rider within the hour to assist you.” She unstrapped herself, then released Satya as well. “You cannot leave the Weyr, but you can go where you like as long as you are escorted.” 

Offering a hand to the master crafter, Fareeha helped her off of the dragon. Satya studied her once her feet were on the ground, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “No bars? No chains?” she asked.

“No. Once a rider has been assigned, you can requisition any of the technocrafter devices that your people brought here and they will be provided to you. Your trial will occur as quickly as we can arrange it.” The realization that she’d actually just walked the master crafter out of her own hall without having to harm anyone settled with Fareeha. She regarded the other woman with some trepidation. “Do you need to tell me anything?”

Satya looked towards the curtain that blocked off the weyr, fingers tight on the blanket. “I need to prepare my defense,” she eventually replied. “Send someone with klah and bread.” There was another pause. “Please.”

Fareeha nodded. “Have a rest. Your rider will be assigned shortly.” She backed towards Raptorath, waiting until Satya had pushed the curtain aside and entered the weyr to sling herself onto his shoulders. Have Yoth’s come to this ledge in ten ticks, she told the dragon. New possibilities loomed and she needed time to think. Raptorath walked to the ledge and crouched, waiting for her cue as she strapped herself in loosely. _I need to go to the infirmary. You need to turn your eggs._ He took off with a rumble of agreement, winging towards the nearest cavern entrance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to make any promises on the speed of the coming chapters since things are all crazy. It'll be less than a week and more than a day. Thanks for reading and I hope you're still enjoying the story!


	6. What The Good Girls Don't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the weyrleadership down to a single woman, Fareeha is pushed past her breaking point.

“You stole the master Technocrafter.”

Fareeha rubbed one hand over her face. It had been a long day, which had turned into a long night. It was beginning to look like she wasn’t going to sleep until the next sundown. She’d had to make the arrangements for Satya, answer the crafters questions, check in with the infirmary, inspect the returning wingriders, schedule the hall guard shifts, check in with the infirmary again, run down donors for transfusions for the injured, inspect and heal Raptorath, guard the hatching sands, be briefed by the healers on Zarya’s condition and then speak with the dragonhealers about Aleksath. She was the entirety of the weyrleadership now. “Arrested,” she corrected.

Lucio’s eyebrow raised. “Uh huh.”

“She admitted to attempted murder of a dragonrider,” she said, leaning back in her chair. The Weyr guards at the far end of the mess hall and the drudges cleaning the kitchens were the only other people present at this late hour. 

“So...now what?” Lucio leaned back as well, crossing his arms. 

“Sombra threatened to send dispatches to the Harper Hall. I hope she does it. I never thought I’d welcome a northern Weyr poking their noses into our business but…”. She made an expansive gesture. “Haven’t you been sending reports?”

“Yeah, but everything’s got to go through Lord Gabriel. How do you think that’s going?”

Fareeha nodded, picking up her mug of klah. “I see your point. How are the Candidates?”

Lucio leaned his elbows on the table. “I don’t really want to add another burden to your back, ma’am, but it’s not going well. I only learned so much, I can’t teach what a dragonrider can.”

“I’m sorry.” Fareeha hung her head. “We intended to have all of this in place by now. We knew what we wanted to do and then…” she shrugged. “I’ll assign W’Ton to it. Can you just keep making sure everyone knows their letters?”

“Yeah, of course.” He edged a little closer around the table so he could pat her on the shoulder. “You’re doing a good job, okay? It’s gotta be hard being in your position.”

Fareeha took a deep breath, then pressed her hands to the table. Frustration showed in the flex of her arms. She wanted to do better than ‘good’ for the Weyr and the riders. “You’re a candidate. It’s not your job to boost my ego.”

He smiled. “Yeah, but as a harper, it’s my job to remind you that you are part of a long tradition of dragonriders and leaders, all the way back to the Ancients. There might never have been one quite like you specifically, but that just means you’ve got a chance to make your own rules. Holders have been getting cranky at Weyrs since the beginning. It’s the nature of the arrangement, it’s a part of our history.”

“Dragonriders died,” Fareeha said bluntly. “That’s more than just cranky.”

“Yes, they did, and I know you’re going to do something about it.” Lucio sipped his drink. “That’s what the weyrfolk tell me. Most of them admire you. They say you work hard, you care for them, you talk to them. The holders are already coming around.”

Fareeha crossed her arms over her chest. “They are not. They think I’m a pervert.” 

“Some of them do. But they’ve been here for months now. It’s hard to keep thinking ill of someone you see working hard every day to make peoples lives better. Ana’s a good influence with them.”

“I still don’t know why they didn’t punish her.” 

Lucio chuckled. “Do you want to?”

Fareeha frowned at him. “I do.”

“Stories.” He spread his hands out on the table. “Everyone likes stories and from what they say, Ana told them a very good one about love and loss and heartache and pain.”

The weyrleader looked into her cup. “Should I do the same?”

Lucio tapped her ankle with his foot. “If they put you on trial, I say go for it. Until then, you live your story, and I might know someone who will put it to music.”

\-------------

The infirmary was quiet and dark in the early morning hours. Fareeha carried two hot jugs of klah and a sack of sweet rolls with her from the kitchens, sent with the best wishes of the drudges. She handed them to the first apprentices she saw, looking them over to see that they were well rested. The holders had returned control of the infirmary to the trained healers quickly after the uprising in exchange for some training. It was running smoothly now, which eased her mind since they now cared for four riders and the weyrwoman. 

She visited the wingriders first, talking to the healers tending them and speaking briefly with those that were awake. Confident that they were being well treated, she moved on to the sectioned off area at the rear of the infirmary. Angela was in the middle of making notes at a table at the side of the bed, one of the journeymen standing across from her and adjusting the restraints they’d used to secure Zarya.

The weyrwoman was fully in the throes of delirium now. Zarya was flushed with fever, her face and chest blotched red. She was dressed in breeches and a chest binding, most of the rest of her taken up with bandages. Her left arm and leg were casted and suspended. Leather straps had been secured across her chest and hips and cuffs had been used to hold down her less injured arm and leg. She strained against these, groaning in pain with every motion. Fareeha remembered what little she could of her time in the jungle, grimacing in sympathy.

“She’s still out,” Angela said from the bedside. “I think I’ve saved her leg and her arm, but I don’t know what sort of complications to expect. We’ve only seen one other case.” She glanced at Fareeha, then back to her notes. “Fellis is barely keeping her pain under control, but there’s not much else I want to try before we’re sure she’s stable.”

Fareeha considered sitting, then realised that if she did, she would likely fall asleep immediately. “What do you need?” Angela’s pen paused, her blue eyes staring into middle distance. “That I can get for you,” the weyrleader amended.

Angela laughed dryly. “A full nights sleep and a restock of painkillers,” she said.

“I’ll add the painkillers to the requisition. Is there someone who can take over for you?”

The goldrider sighed and initialled the bottom of her page, then gestured to the other healer. He took her notes and began to look them over. “Can you assign trustworthy guards? Caudeth is getting very upset with me.” 

Fareeha nodded. “I’ll stay.”

Angela looked her over, then stood. “Come here.” 

Ducking her head, Fareeha took a few steps closer. “Hmm?”

Angela reached up to brush the brownriders hair back, studying her face, then ran her fingers over her cheek. “When did you last sleep?”

“Last night.” She was a terrible liar and Angela was clearly not in a mood to humour her.

“Someone else,” Angela said, looking her up and down. “...Fareeha, you haven’t even changed out of your underclothes.”

Fareeha shrugged. “As soon as someone’s available, I’ll call them in. I’m fine, really. I can guard Zarya.”

The healer fixed her ponytail, shaking her head. “I’d order you to accompany me, but...I don’t think that would result in very much sleeping.”

“I really will be fine.” Fareeha bent and kissed her on the cheek. “Go.”

Angela began to protest, but it came out as a yawn. “I see your point,” she conceded. “But if I hear you stayed here all day, you will be in trouble.”

“I know,” Fareeha responded, giving her a gentle push towards the door. The journeyman paused briefly in his perusal of Zarya’s records, then nodded to the weyrleader and walked out as well. 

Fareeha slouched into the chair by the bed, watching Zarya as she struggled in her restraints. 

\-------------

_My gold is very large and her shell is exactly as hard as it should be. She will be strong when she breaks through it._

Smiling, Fareeha leaned towards his offered wing and scratched the joint. Were all clutch sires like this? She resonated her affection towards him. _How is Caudeth?_

_She wants to fly and hunt. The sands make her itch. She cares for the eggs very well._

In the bowl below, the candidates almost had their catapults in position. W’Ton walked back and forth among them, inspecting the paint soaked ragballs they had loaded into the buckets. This would be a new drill, intended to hone the riders’ skill at fighting the airborne insects. The candidates would launch the ragballs from every direction while a pair of riders attempted to fight the projectiles without being hit. She’d spared some firestone for the drill so the candidates would gain experience working the firestone relay and the riders could practise their aim. It would be a welcome distraction from everything happening elsewhere in the Weyr. 

It had been two days since the battle over the hall. The technocrafters still had not emerged. The only contact any rider had made had been with Sombra or Roadh, neither of whom seemed especially inclined to explain themselves to non-crafters. Zarya had regained consciousness, but her contact with Aleksath and the other dragons was patchy at best. She was being taken care of meticulously well but her mental state was intensely worrying. The weyrwoman only spoke with Ana, Angela and Fareeha, only enough to reassure them of her slow recovery. Her leg and arm would not heal before the hatching, a reality that the women did not want to confront before learning the status of those at the hall. Fareeha and the dragonhealers bore the far heavier burden of the knowledge that Aleksath’s wings were ruined. They had patched together what they could, but there were great gaping holes they did not anticipate closing. The mighty gold would never fly again.

For the moment she had to set that aside. The dragons and their riders had to be trained, if only to keep them occupied. _Is Pebuth’s ready?_ Fareeha located the brawny searchrider on the ground, inspecting one of the catapults. After a moments delay, he stood straight and raised an arm in her direction.

_Pebuth says his and the candidates are prepared._

_Send in the first pair._

She’d selected L’Tel and U’Kor to go first. They were fine riders, but their dragons were slow. Aiming at them would be easier for the candidates, which would serve as a good warmup for everyone. As they dove and swooped, skillfully avoiding one another as well as the paintballs, Fareeha made mental notes. When their alloted time was finished, she sent the next pair into the air, and the next after them. The drill ran smoothly, the candidates developing strategies on the fly and the riders in turn learning to deal with the changes in the launch patterns. 

_One more pair and then we will show them how it’s done,_ Fareeha promised as Lacroith and Unketh prepared to take to the field. Their riders fed them their allotment of firestone, then raised hands to signal their readiness. Fareeha heard a peal of laughter from the nearest catapult, looking down to see Lucio and one of the weyrbrats dumping extra paint into the bucket. She chuckled, then gave the signal for the two dragons to take off. 

As they swooped through the gauntlet of paint and fabric, the weyrleader watched. Lacroith and Amelie moved well, dodging most of the excessive paint from Lucio. Unketh made extensive use of between, scorching less of the targets but also taking less paint. 

_The dragons lose their voices,_ Raptorath told her, rumbling as the competing duo landed. Furrowing her brow, Fareeha looked at the gathered wingriders, all of whom were grabbing for their dragons heads to meet their eyes. 

_I can still hear you. What about Caudeth? Can you hear her?_ She grabbed her straps as Raptorath leapt to ground level. 

“What is going on?!” J’Rat had his arms slung around Unketh’s neck, squeezing the blue’s head knobs into his chest. Only a couple of the riders were willing to break eye contact with their dragons to look at her. 

“What are they saying? Tell me what it feels like,” Fareeha asked the closest woman, who clung to her green, murmuring her name over and over. She looked over the dragon, finding paint but no ichor on the green’s hide. There was no sign of the silver insects on the ground or in the sky. 

“I just can’t hear her. I can’t feel her,” the rider replied. 

“Can anyone aside from me still hear their dragon?” Fareeha clasped the riders shoulder and looked around. W’Ton, standing with the candidates and keeping them back, raised his hand. None of the others did. _Ask the golds and Morth. Stay clear of the wing,_ she instructed Raptorath. A few of the riders watched the brown edge away from the other dragons. The wingriders and their dragons began to move nervously, trying to adjust their positions to be closer. 

_Caudeth can speak, with me and with Hers. So can Morth and Udjath,_ Raptorath informed her, watching her. _I do not see any of the swarm, and no one bleeds._

Lacroith bumped into a green and flinched, knocking Amelie off of her feet and under the wing of a neighbouring brown. He reared back, keening, when he did not immediately see her. The blue’s muscles coiled, ready to hurl him skyward and between. _Rap-_ Before she could give the order, the brown had leapt on the blue, using one of his wings to stop Lacroith’s jump. Amelie scrambled back to her feet, grabbed the blue’s mouth with one hand and slung the other across his neck. 

“Blast it,” Fareeha muttered. _Tell Caudeth to tell Hers to bring up the curtain over the entrance to the sands. Absolutely no one in or out. We need to check everyone and make sure this isn’t a contagion._ “Calm down! Wingriders, get on your dragons left side, make hand to hide contact, proceed to the far edge of the bowl ON FOOT. I do not want to see anyone on dragonback until we know what’s going on. Maintain eye contact or hand to hide contact with your dragon at all times. Move out!” She pointed to W’Ton. “Send Pebuth to your weyr. No contact with any other dragon until we give the clear. You take the Candidates back to their barracks right now. They are under quarantine, no contact with any dragonriders except you. A healer will come to give you an examination shortly.”

 _Caudeths would speak with you,_ Raptorath informed her as she watched the riders make their way to the designated area. Her eyes narrowed. They had attacked the dragons. This was a step too far. Riders could understand what was happening, could be spoken with and reassured. The only voices dragons had ever known were their riders and the others of their species and somehow these conspirators had found a way to strike them deaf and dumb. The poor creatures would be terrified and their bonded lifemates were almost entirely helpless to ease their fright. She remembered Raptorath’s silent nightmares, echoed into her own mind during their recovery. As weyrleader, as a dragonrider, as a soldier, this could not be allowed to go unchallenged. Her wingriders had sworn to protect the innocent and it was her duty to protect them. 

_I will come to the wall when I can._ The muscle of her back tightened as the first pairs began to settle on the far side of the bowl. Reassured that they would take care of one another, she slid off of Raptorath’s shoulders. _Go back to our weyr, watch over the sands from above. I have to take care of this._

The brown huffed as he loped a few yards, then leapt into the air.

\-------------

The lord holder was seated at his customary table in the mess hall when she found him. He was eating his evening meal and chatting with his friends, and Fareeha felt her neck prickle with anger. He couldn’t even take the suffering he’d caused seriously enough to be somber. She had come to speak with him (or at him, if he was of a mood to be obstinate), but every step she took reminded her of the people who weren’t there with her. Angela locked away in the hatching sands. Zarya strapped to a table. Lena. R’Hardt. Her anger built, her hands curling into fists.

He smirked when he saw her and that was it. Her rage carried her to a strange clarity. She was done negotiating and dancing to his tune. The truth was plain in front of her face now. She might not have the backing of the north, but neither did the lord holder. If he did, Fort would have sent riders and harpers to investigate her abduction of a mastercrafter and they would have seen his treachery clear. They were both on their own, beyond the charter and the laws. 

Had he ever stood in that place before? She had, with only J’Cree at her back, fighting grown men who called her ‘freak’ and ‘uppity’. Standing before Weyr councils to explain actions that male riders didn’t have to think twice about. Knowing that anyone who laid a hand on her would go unpunished as long as they had a good excuse while she could be grounded for snapping off a curse in a moment of frustration. 

J’Cree was gone between now. She was alone.

“Weyrleader,” he called as she strode towards him. Normally she would remove her helmet and return his greeting, but today was not that day. She checked to his left and right, confirming the absence of the Technocrafter weapon. He didn’t even have a knife at his hip, and oh how he was about to regret that. “How was your drill?”

The men on either side of him shifted uneasily as she continued her approach. Others in the mess hall turned to watch. She did not slow as she reached the small table, just grabbed it with one hand and shoved it away. He pushed to his feet, narrowing his eyes, but before he could speak, she swung. 

There had been better punches thrown in the past, but she could not think of one more satisfying. Her gauntleted fist crunched against his cheekbone, turning whatever he was about to shout into a strangled grunt. He ricocheted his palm off of her helmet and she brought her other fist around to his throat. He slapped away her next strike but was unable to entirely defend against her knee. She felt it hit soft flesh, sending him stumbling away. 

People yelled. Someone grabbed her arm and she wrenched herself free. The lord holder struck her solidly across the jaw, which she answered with a boot to his knee. A blade flashed past the corner of her eye. She flinched away from it, taking another punch for her trouble, then blocked a second stab by swatting aside her attackers forearm. “Where is your weapon of light? Done with your tricks and your poisons?” She shouted, kicking the man in the chest. “Now it’s time for knives? If you mean to kill me, you’ve lost your chance!” The lord holder landed an elbow on the side of her head, most of the impact absorbed by her helmet.

“This attack is unprovoked!” One of the men who had been sitting with Lord Gabriel shouted to the gathering crowd.

“He poisoned the dragons!” She bellowed, shrugging off another punch and returning it with a solid body blow. “My wing, my dragonmen, my weyrwoman!” She gritted her teeth and slammed her shoulder into Lord Gabriel, barrelling him onto the ground. “What next? The candidates? The eggs?” What followed was nothing elegant. It was a brutal grapple, the lord holder smacking her head into the floor and the table, Fareeha pummelling his face and his body. She did not stop until she had him pinned in a corner, his hands squeezing ineffectually at her throat armor while she dug her knee into his belly. “I won’t kill you,” she snarled, leaning her weight on her hip. “I can’t. But if the dragons do not recover, this will continue to happen until I have something better to do with my time.”

He growled, green paint coming off of her throat on his sweating hands. “I will…”

“You’ll what,” she said, bringing her face closer to his. “Call for help from the north? Tell them that I thrashed you? Then tell them what when they ask you why?” He shot a punch along her temple, knocking her helmet off centre. She answered by bearing down harder until his lips purpled. “Kill another dragonrider? Hurt Angela? Hurt Zarya? What do you think I’ll do to you when I have nothing left?” He caught her across the eye, rocking her back so he could catch his breath. “You’ll do nothing, murderer.” He tried a blind swing and she bounced his head off of the floor with a vicious cross.

“I order you to the jail, weyrleader,” he gasped, glaring dizzily at her. 

“No,” Fareeha responded. “You don’t give me any more orders, lord holder.” She pushed herself to her feet, already feeling the aches and pains of the brawl as they settled into her muscles. She was just drawing a breath to speak when something punched through the back of her armor and into the flesh underneath. Turning, she saw the man who had once held the knife taking slow steps away from her, frantically flicking her blood from his hand. With a grunt she reached along her back to find the offending item. It hurt like a burn as she withdrew it, but the pain was secondary to her fury. He goggled as she threw the knife to the ground and stomped on it, shattering the poorly constructed ornamental handle with the heel of her boot. Taking off her helmet, she glared at him, feeling the wound stretch and bubble with blood with every breath. “This is my Weyr.”

Every eye in the room followed her as she made her exit, fighting down the pain until she reached the corridor and collapsed.

\----------------------

A cool hand rested on her wrist, bringing her out of troubled sleep. When she opened her eyes she immediately recognized the cloth walls as Angela’s domain. 

_Mine?_

_I’m alright._ The reassurance was a knee-jerk response. If she was conscious, her condition couldn’t be too awful. Raptorath flooded her with concern and pride. 

_You are hurt. Caudeth's is very upset._ She looked towards the hand, finding Ana rather than Angela watching her. 

_You can tell her I’m awake._ She tried to speak, but the sound that emerged was a low moan. 

“Proud of yourself?” Ana said dryly. “Do you think you proved your point?”

Fareeha adjusted her shoulders and felt pain throb along her waist. “Yes,” she answered churlishly, meeting Ana’s skeptical look. “Why?”

“Someone made off with that weapon of his while you were causing a scene. Whatever you’re planning on doing with it, it had better be worth the consequences..”

The brownrider blinked. Someone had stolen the weapon? Ana’s brow furrowed at the look on her face. “I didn’t take it,” Fareeha murmured. Her waist throbbed again and she lay back onto the bed.

“And you don’t know who did, do you?” Ana quirked one eyebrow when Fareeha shook her head ‘no’, then stood up as the curtains were pushed aside. Angela pulled them shut behind herself. She looked equally furious and relieved as she stalked to the bedside, pulling up a chair and staring pointedly at Fareeha until she laid her head back on the pillow.

“Have you lost your entire mind,” she asked. Her eyes flashed. “He could have killed you. If the guards were there, they would have killed you. You are lucky you were only stabbed.”

“Mildly stabbed?” Fareeha suggested. Angela looked like the balance was tilting towards furious for a moment. 

“If it had been anyone more experienced than a councillor who’s never been in a fight, you would be dead,” she stated bluntly. “This was insane and no, no matter what you’re planning on doing with that weapon it was not worth it.”

“I didn’t do that,” Fareeha protested as her eyes were angrily peered at and her pulse taken not-so-gently. 

“No, you were occupied getting stabbed!” Angela was even capable of writing notes angrily. “Who did you get to steal it? It can’t have been J’Rat, because the rest of the room wasn’t burned to the ground. And where did it go? Did you have it taken to Satya or destroyed?”

“Angela. It wasn’t my plan. I don’t know who took it.” Fareeha lay her hand over Angela’s, feeling it tremble. “I only wanted to confront him and then he taunted me. It’s all been too much. I just...snapped.”

Angela turned her hand, clasping Fareeha’s tightly. “We cannot afford-”

“I know we can’t. I know. But I am tired of him believing we’re meek little holder girls, to be pushed around on his whim. He attacked the dragons. They are innocent and whatever he did deafened and muzzled them. They must be terrified.”

Tears pattered onto the blankets. She saw the goldriders emotional balance tilt once again and Angela rested her forehead on Fareeha’s shoulder. “You’re such a sweet fool,” she murmured, squeezing Fareeha’s hand. 

_Wherry,_ Raptorath added. The laugh that burst from Fareeha’s mouth radiated an ache all through her lower back. 

“What did he say?” Angela asked, kissing her on the cheek when the laughter subsided.

“Called me a wherry,” Fareeha answered. 

Angela sighed, pushing some of the weyrleaders hair back from her face. Fareeha leaned into the touch, letting her eyes drop closed again. “You really didn’t have someone steal the weapon?” She asked.

“I didn’t. I would have told you. I promise.”

Angela’s fingers ghosted over her torso, touching the bandage around her waist, then fixed the blankets over her body. “I believe you.”

“Have Ana or J’Son go sit with the wing?” Fareeha suggested, lacing her fingers through Angela’s. “And the healers can deliver their reports to you?”

Angela’s thumb pressed against the back of Fareeha’s hand, rubbing. “While you rest. I’ll wake you if anything changes.”

Fareeha only nodded as she let herself drift back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG I'M STILL ALIVE WTF.
> 
> I'm so sorry for this huge delay. Thank you for reading!


	7. Doing the Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eggs are touched and the weapon is found.

She had to forgive Angela for her one small lie. By the time she awoke the following morning, the wingriders and their dragons had long since recovered. The quarantine had been lifted and everyone had been dismissed to their weyrs. She’d slipped out past the barricade to see Raptorath and get some air while Angela finished evaluating the notes the healers had made. Fareeha looked out over the bowl as the first spatters of rain began to fall, holding her back straight. There was pain across her waist, her face, her neck and her head. The aches were worthwhile. No matter Angela and Ana’s misgivings, she couldn’t help but feel as though she’d succeeded. 

She looked to the entrances to the caverns, spotting a few of the old holder men smoking around the doorway. J’Rat sat on the low ledge of the weyr Lord Gabriel had occupied, Unketh sheltering him under one wing. The dragonhealers were gently carrying Aleksath’s wing braces as they urged her into her weyr. The gold’s eyes were slate grey and her ribs were easily seen. She needed her rider very soon. 

The rain became a solid downpour very quickly. She leaned against the wall with the one spot on her shoulder that didn’t ache, puzzling idly over the mystery of the technocrafter weapon. It was not likely it was in dragonrider hands. Lord Gabriel’s living space was on ground level, easy to slip in and out of for anyone on foot who could pick a lock. The candidates were all quarantined, as was W’Ton. Had Satya worked out a way down the mountain? Lord Gabriel had not asked for an audience with her since she’d arrived and she had not requested to be taken to him. She’d been so certain of his assistance when Fareeha had taken her from the hall. It was strange that he hadn’t granted it. 

Movement caught her attention. J’Rat had hoisted himself to his feet, shuffling to the still closed doorway of the lord holders quarters. He grabbed a paper that was offered through a crack in the entrance, staring at it dubiously, then dropped back to sitting next to Unketh. He read it carefully, flipped it over to see if there was more information on the back, then shook his head. “OI!” He flailed an arm in the air. “WEYRLEADER!”

She raised an eyebrow. They were perhaps a dragonlength away, though the falling rain was making it difficult to see him. “Yes?” she called back to him.

“MESSAGE FROM THE HALL! SOME CRAFTERS WANT TO COME TO THE WEYR TO GET SEARCHED!” She furrowed her brow, looking towards the lord holders closed door. “MASTERCRAFTER’S ALREADY APPROVED ‘EM!”

Her frown deepened. How was Satya passing messages to the lord holder without dragonrider assistance? _Are there fire lizards here?_ She asked Raptorath. He huffed on the ledge above her, stretching his neck out into the rain, then withdrawing.

_No. Snowball is gone, no others are here._ He rumbled again, displeased by the chill. _There is no rain on my eggs?_

_None,_ Fareeha assured him.

“DID YA HEAR ME? I CAN’T COME OVER THERE, IT’S RAINING. MY LEG’LL GO OUT AGAIN”

She shook her head, feeling her neck strain with the movement. “I heard.” she called back. “We’ll send two riders for transport once the rain lets up.”

“I’LL LET HIM KNOW.” J’Rat spun in place to face the lord holders door. “OI, GABRIEL, SHE SAYS SOMEONE’LL BLOODY GO ONCE THE BLASTED RAIN’S DONE AND NOT BEFORE!”

If J’Rat got a response, she didn’t hear it. Instead, a gentle hand rested on her shoulder, urging her back inside. “There’s stew,” Angela said. That was all the coercion Fareeha needed to step out of the cold. 

Some of her things had been gathered from her weyr, set alongside Angela’s personal items. She shoved a pair of boots aside with one foot as she sat on the bed, accepting a deep mug of stew from the goldrider. “The first egg touching is today,” she commented as she sat next to Fareeha, watching her as she began to eat.

“I hardly remember mine,” Fareeha said, glad that Angela had chosen a low key discussion topic. She was still keyed up over every other thing going on within the mountain. “I know I touched Raptorath's egg though. It had a flat spot. I thought that meant the dragon might be odd.”

“He did sire a gold,” Angela pointed out, picking a carrot from the stew and eating it. 

“I mean more like Lacroith.” Fareeha balanced her bowl on her knees, putting an arm around Angela. The goldrider snuggled against her, mindful of her injury. “You didn’t get to touch Caudeth's egg,” she said. “How did all of that even happen?”

“I was the only master who wasn’t extremely busy at the time, so I was volunteered to attend the hatching. I was something of a celebrity in the hall since I was so young. Fort was happy to have me in attendance. I thought I was in for an afternoon in the warmth, an evening of wine, dinner and dancing and then a flight home with some handsome dragonrider.” Angela smiled and kissed Fareeha on the shoulder. “I was in the front seats they reserve for special guests, wearing a lovely gather dress, chatting with one of the journeyman harpers. It was almost over and the hatching had been very smooth. No severe injuries. The harper was just joking about the weyrleaders rigging things so their honoured guest wouldn’t have to work when the gold egg cracked.” She chuckled. “Caudeth split it in three. She came out of it howling and the girls stood there like they hadn’t just seen a dozen other hatchlings fumbling over the sand. She charged right through them, wailing and wailing, headed straight for the stands. One of the holders daughters leapt down to try to catch her and I didn’t even think about it. I jumped down after her. She was being such a fool, practically throwing herself onto Caudeth's claws…”. Angela stirred her stew, closing her eyes to capture the memory again. “So I told the holder girl to go back to her father and then I told Caudeth that she must calm down and go back to the girls who were waiting for her. She told me that no one was waiting for her. She had found Hers. Then she ripped half of the skirt off of my dress trying to climb into my arms to make her point. While I was untangling her, she told me her name and that was when I really understood what had happened.”

“You stole her,” Fareeha joked, giving Angela a squeeze. “From all of those carefully chosen Candidates.”

The goldrider rolled her eyes. “I would be a wealthy woman if I had even a quarter mark for the number of times someone’s said that to my face.”

Setting her empty cup aside, Fareeha kissed Angela’s shoulder. “Wealth is for holders,” she countered, trailing her nose up the other woman’s neck. “I’d take Raptorath, Overwatch and you over every mark on Pern.”

Angela tilted her head, still chewing on the stew, until Fareeha couldn’t stretch any further. “Candidates. Less than an hour,” she murmured, putting her bowl down and cupping the brownriders cheek. She guided her into a kiss. “And then moving the rest of your things.”

Fareeha chased that kiss with another. “Yes, weyrwoman.”

\-------------

It shouldn’t have been a surprise that her formal leathers didn’t fit as they had when she’d first commissioned them. Fareeha had no occasion to wear them after graduating from weyrlinghood and she’d been a stripling then. She could barely get her arms into the jacket and absolutely could not do it up, so she’d set that aside in favor of her gather shirt. The pants were likewise out of the question-they’d been cut for a girl with thin calves and a rounder belly. She had to borrow a pair of Angela’s, which fit loose on her hips. The overall effect made her look like an especially fancy trader, even with her insignia and knot prominent on her shoulder.

Angela looked much more the part as the Candidates filed in. Her uniform gleamed in the light of the glows, lending her some of Caudeth’s shine. Her hair was tied back neatly and she’d even put some pigment on. It was ordinary, expected, the sort of thing goldriders who weren’t besieged captives on their own hatching sands did. The normalcy seemed to comfort some of the Candidates, while a handful of others who still wore the Talon Hold patch on their arms rolled their eyes. 

The storm ebbed outside. Fareeha didn’t have to speak-W’Ton exited through the barrier as the last of the drips landed. He could be trusted to choose his own search partner to travel to the hall. She half-listened to Raptorath, half to Angela’s welcoming words to the Candidates, studying the youths individually from her position on the far side of the clutch. Had any of them had the opportunity to snatch the weapon? Her eyes lit on Lucio for a moment, but only a moment. He was a clever man, but he struck her as the sort who would seek peace openly and honestly. They had been observed nonstop once they’d been quarantined. It couldn’t have been the Candidates. 

She watched as the groups edged away from the wall, spreading out and approaching the clutch. As they moved so did she, bringing a chair and taking up a guarding position next to the gold egg. Caudeth loomed behind her as Angela moved among the Candidates. Fareeha clamped down on the pain in her back, concentrating on the women as they hesitantly started to approach her. She studied each as they came near, making no move to stop them when they finally got up the nerve to touch the shining egg. Protective instincts echoed from Raptorath flared with each of the holdborn who came near. 

When the women had gone back to the rest of the clutch, Fareeha looked for Lucio, finding him hunkered down next to a smaller egg, rubbing it and talking to it brightly. Then he moved on to the next, bending over to get a closer look at the pale shell. “Where’s the head?” He asked, looking first to Fareeha, then Angela. The goldrider crossed to him, looking over the egg, then gestured to a spot midway along the shell.

“It was there when the shell was softer, but they move,” she explained.

Then the questions began in earnest, from Lucio and the others. Fareeha leaned back in the chair, unable to ignore the pain in her back, and listened as Angela spoke with them. She could almost forget the dozen major concerns outside of the sands, watching her weyrmate explain that aside from the gold, no one could tell what colour would come from which egg, how to best concentrate on connecting with the eggs, and what would happen on hatching day. Then she would see one of the holders giving her a smug look or making a snide remark to their friends and her guard rose again. 

When W’Ton returned at the head of a small knot of young crafters, Fareeha straightened in her seat. Raptorath made a crooning sound from the ledge and one of the young people separated from the rest. Hana walked back to the barricade, looking up for the familiar dragon. 

“Raptorath?”

_It is Hana!_ The brown leapt into the bowl. _Mine, she still has your jacket! Show her my gold. She will like my gold and you promised her a dragon._

There was very little subtlety in the brown’s request. Fareeha stayed put, at the mercy of her throbbing wound, but waved when Hana returned from the barrier. The girl paused on seeing her then walked quickly across the sands, dodging her fellows and the other Candidates. “Is this what you do?” she called ahead of herself. “Get wrecked all the time?”

“It is part of the job.” In spite of the pain, Fareeha levered herself to her feet. “Where were you?”

“Lower levels, ‘for protection’.” She didn’t cut her brisk pace, just walked full-body into Fareeha and slung her arms around her waist. “They said you kidnapped Satya.”

Fareeha hugged the younger woman back, squeezing her tight around the shoulders even as her injuries throbbed. “I arrested her. We can talk about it later.” She nodded towards the gold egg. “Do you want to touch?”

Hana grinned fiercely. “I don’t have to do any weird dragonrider trials?”

Fareeha released her, leaving one hand on her shoulder to lower herself back to the chair. “If W’Ton brought you back with him, you have the same chance as everyone else. And if you don’t touch her soon Raptorath is going to come in here and bury you underneath her.”

The Technocrafter looked over the egg, studying it the way she looked at her machines. “If I touch her, does that mean it’s for sure?”

Taking a shallow breath and adjusting her position in the chair, Fareeha shook her head. “It’s not for sure. But it gives you a better chance.”

“Yeah, and it’ll warm your hands up after all that flying.”

She knew that voice, that mocking tone. Fareeha was just about to respond when Hana lunged away from her to knock Sombra back from the gold egg. “Back off,” the Technocrafter frowned. “She’s a dragon, not a cup of klah.”

“Yeah. And I’ve got the same chance as everyone else.” Sombra glanced at Fareeha as she pressed her open palm to the shell’s dull gleam. “Oh wow she is warm.”

Hana’s lip curled and she put both of her hands on the opposite side of the egg, closing her eyes and bowing her head. “You don’t have to talk,” she pointed out.

“Hey, I’ll take any advantage I can get. Isn't that sort of the point of this? Let them get to know us, so they know who to come to after they hatch? Start their training early?” Sombra leaned closer to the egg. “You’re gonna be prettier than your mama!”

Fareeha rolled her eyes, but Hana reached across the egg and prodded the harper in the shoulder. “Journeyman, you’re being rude,” she said. “There are other eggs, go take your turn with them.”

“But this is the only one I’m interested in,” Sombra replied, caressing the burnished shell. “I want to help out here, this place needs a competent gold-”

Hana’s slap echoed in the chamber, just slightly louder than the laughter of the holdborn Candidates. Sombra reeled away from the egg, her hand touching the split in her lip. Fareeha pushed out of the chair, feeling her fresh stitches give with the abrupt movement. The rest of the room quickly fell silent as the harper straightened, her expression furious. “That’s how it is, journeyman Song?”

“That’s how it is, journeyman Sombra,” Hana said, stepping around the egg to stand between it and Sombra. There was a murmur in the crowd, then one of the holder boys jostled a weyrborn woman and knocked her over. The sands erupted in shoving and shouting. Angela, W’Ton and Fareeha waded into the fray, grabbing collars and ejecting the rowdy Candidates from the chamber. 

“Put them on their chore rotations, double duties,” Fareeha snapped at W’Ton as he shepherded the still-arguing group into the hallway. She managed to remain standing until she was sure they were gone, then sagged back into the chair with a groan. 

“You should have left them to W’Ton and I,” Angela said sternly, already picking up the fellis juice.

“Next time,” Fareeha agreed, holding still as she felt warm blood stain her shirt. “I think I pulled my stitches.”

Angela handed her a small cup. “I am not surprised.”

\-------------

Other Weyrleaders got to rest, Fareeha reflected. They got to have whole sevendays in a row where nothing unusual happened and no one was attacked or kidnapped. They probably didn’t have to deal with quite so many stabbings and they only had to talk to lord holders and master crafters once or twice a month. They did have Candidates brawling in the corridors, but probably not so many who actually might kill each other. 

She checked to make sure her hair was neatly tied, then climbed aboard Raptorath. Other Weyrleaders also didn’t understand how precious their position could be. They didn’t know every rider, didn’t care about them the way she could. She buckled herself in and the brown leapt from the low ledge outside of the hatching sands. He brought them high over the Weyr, letting Fareeha take a long look. Two days since the egg touching and the Weyr was still settled into an uneasy peace. Her bruised face and body had healed somewhat, though the stabbing wound was still throbbing. Angela had been reluctant to let her leave the sands in pain, but they’d agreed that the weapon needed to be found. The riders had yet to see anything indicating it was being prepared to used against them and based on the lord holders absolute refusal to leave the caverns she had to assume he hadn’t located it either.

Her list of suspects was thankfully short. Satya had agreed to meet with her over dinner. She doubted she would need to speak with the master crafter for very long-she had her eye on the most likely thief first. Peering down from her high vantage, she picked out Amelie and Lacroith. The blue-dyed rider was sitting on Lena’s ledge, watching her dragon eat in the bowl when Fareeha arrived on Raptorath. The brown delivered her, then flew off to an unoccupied ledge to begin his usual litany of complaints about the blue. Amelie barely glanced up when the weyrleader strode up alongside her.

“I need to ask you something.” 

The armoured rider turned back to look at the bowl. “This weyr is unoccupied. I have broken no rules.”

Fareeha studied her covered head, then looked back over her shoulder towards Raptorath.

_He pecks his food like a wherry. He is the wherry! I am not the wherry!_

She knew she should be as suspicious of Amelie as Zarya was, if not hate her outright as Angela and Ana did. Even her dragon constantly urged her to at least be petty towards Lacroith and his rider. Every time she considered it, the look of numb shock on Amelie’s face when the lord holder shot Lena replayed itself. Or she recalled the way Amelie had stared at the weapon, as though disassembling it in her mind. Or that blank expression when she was reassigned to remedial duties. Lena, the brightest, fastest rider she’d ever known, had seen someone else behind that flat, emotionless wall and had wanted to nurture her in spite of her political leanings and her unfortunate habit of violently assaulting goldriders. Letting someone dangerous pass because of sentiment was not a thing to do lightly, however. Amelie would have to be punished for the role she’d taken in the uprising one day. It just wouldn’t be today. Fareeha needed her trust if she intended to take the weapon without having it used on her. 

_And he preens too much._

Fareeha nodded towards the weyr entrance. “Let’s talk inside.”

Amelie stood slowly, then lead the way inside. Those who didn’t know much about Overwatches deceased messenger would have expected utter chaos to reign within her personal space, but it was very organized. Fareeha was a little surprised to see it remained almost untouched from the day before the uprising. The bed was as rumpled as it had been that morning. Lena’s spare leathers and her gather clothes hung off of a pole on the wall. Her baskets of miscellanea had been closed, but left as they were. Her bathing kit was on her nightstand. Even the pair of socks that had been sticking out from under the bed were exactly as they’d been left. The only noteable change was the hammock and barracks box that now occupied the barricaded entryway. 

Amelie stopped halfway across the room, standing at ease and facing the weyrleader. Her eyes glittered behind her mask. “What do you want?”

Fareeha watched her quietly. “Take off your faceplate, wingrider.” It was an order, but given gently. Amelie hesitated anyway, then took the leather off of her face and tucked it into her belt. Without the mask she looked healthier than she had before, but her expression was still flat. “Tell me about the weapon.”

Amelie studied Fareeha intently. “It was one of the items the technocrafters brought from the hall when they were evacuated,” she said after a brief silence. “They know how to operate it.”

The nuance of her tone was just barely obvious. She expected the next question to be ‘how do we use it’, and Fareeha considered her options for a moment. She could ask Amelie outright where the weapon was, but that might be as good as admitting she didn’t actually have it to Lord Gabriel. Was there a way to suss out Amelie’s loyalties before tipping her hand and making her potential disadvantage clear? “And what can you tell me about Sombra?”

Those amber eyes locked on hers. Amelie’s posture went rigid and tight, her mouth closing primly. “She is a journeyman harper from the southern islands of Ista.” When she finally spoke it was as though she was reciting something memorized.

“I have seen her file,” Fareeha said patiently. “What more can you tell me?”

The silence that hung between them was long. “Her people died at the western gate of Talon hold.”

“Her people?” Fareeha watched her for any emotional response and saw none.

“Friends who came with her from the north.”

“How many?”

“Seven.” Amelie reported the number as though speaking about inventory, not a casualty count.

“And she was with Lord Gabriel?”

“She saved the hold records instead of her friends.”

“Is that why she hates us?” Fareeha folded her arms. Amelie was definitely off balance, trying to understand this sudden change in focus. She’d revealed more than she otherwise would have, and Fareeha intended to keep the information flowing.

“She believed what the messengers told her about a healer goldrider who said the dragonriders were coming to save them.”

Fareeha considered this. She couldn’t deny that anger was an appropriate response, even anger at the Weyr. Justice had been done, however. There was nothing Angela could have done to save anyone at the western gate, something she believed was common knowledge by now. Had the harpers isolation guided her to other conclusions? Had Sombra’s relationship to Amelie driven her to the actions she took against the Weyr? “Is that why you hate Angela?” 

Amelie shook her head, once. “She is exactly like every other dragonrider. Prejudiced and arrogant.”

Fareeha tilted her head slightly. “Do you hate me?”

“No.” The corner of Amelie’s mouth quirked. “You’re like me.”

Fareeha’s frown only grew Amelie’s faint smile. “What do you mean?”

“A woman on a man’s dragon. A freak. My skin. Your...predeliction.”

Fareeha was far too used to having that thrown in her face to be shaken. “Yours too,” she pointed out.

“Half.” Amelie’s response was quick. “There have been men. My weyrmate for turns was a man.”

“Since you left the north?” Fareeha caught the way Amelie’s eyes darted to the bed, then back to her. “There haven’t,” the brownrider answered for her, earning a withering glare. “Is that why you and Sombra-”

“We are friends. We flirted. Gabriel sent me to her.” There was an actual tone in her voice, a touch of acid and self-loathing. “Once. Only once.”

“Did you know Oxtoth was rising that day.” Fareeha felt the anger in Amelie’s gaze as it fixed on her again. She met her eyes, stone faced.

“No.”

She had Amelie simmering mad and answers to questions she never thought she’d get. By the egg, she was starting to understand what Lena saw. Amelie was clearly intelligent and thoughtful, isolated by northerners because of her dragon and her strange skin. Someone willing to push through all of that, even in the guise of mating flights, must have made an impression on her. “Do you regret it?” The question got away from her, coming out blunt.

Amelie made a choking sound that spiralled quickly into dry, low laughter. She made a twisty gesture with her hand that encompassed the entire room to highlight the ridiculousness of Fareeha’s question. 

“Is that why you took the weapon?”

The guffaws stopped. Amelie’s eyes snapped with sudden frost. “What do you mean, I took the weapon?” Her question had an edge. “I was keeping Lacroith on the ground. You took it. You pulled it out of his hands.”

She was going to need to talk to Lucio about getting the Weyrs rumour mill to be a little more realistic. “He didn’t have it. You took it from his apartment,” Fareeha answered.

Amelie shook her head. “I did not.”

The riders belligerence was not enough to prove her innocence. There were a few places in Lena’s old quarters to hide something like the weapon. “Where is it?” Fareeha opened the largest basket, tipping the top off onto the floor. Amelie grabbed her wrist and pushed her back.

“Do not! Do not touch her things!” The bluerider frantically picked up the lid and set it back in place. “Leave it as it is, there is nothing here.” The anger had faded. Amelie was pleading. “I did not take it. Do not touch her things.” She pulled her mask from her belt but stopped short of putting it back on, twisting it in her hands instead.

In the silence that followed, Fareeha heard Lacroith touch down on the ledge. _He puffs his chest. I am bigger than him,_ Raptorath commented smugly. Fareeha thought back to the image on the wall of the hall, the prominent hole in Oxtoth’s wing. If there was anything Amelie could be trusted with, the slim possibility that Lena might have survived Lord Gabriels attack was it. Her distress made it clear that while her loyalty to the Weyr and her fellow dragonriders might be thin, Lena was a special case. “She may not be dead,” she said aloud.

Amelie dropped the mask to the floor. “I don’t have the weapon,” she said. Her tone was already shifting back to her usual dull neutrality. “There is no need to be cruel. You may search my things, but it is not here.”

Fareeha nodded, taking a cursory glance around the room, paying attention to none of it. Her theory of the truth of Lena’s demise bubbled in her brain. Having someone to share it with was tempting, even though it might made her look addled. If anyone could come up with a way to outfly death it was Lena, but if she was alive, why hadn’t she returned? Was she lost or injured? Was Oxtoth unable to find a bearing? 

Amelie stared at her levelly, all traces of her outburst gone. She’d tucked away her emotions as neatly as could be. When the silence continued, she walked back to her barracks box and pushed it onto its side with one foot. The only sound was the shift of fabric inside and the box did not move as though it was weighted down. They both stared at it for a long moment. 

“I have to speak with Satya,” Fareeha finally said. “You’re confined to quarters until I say otherwise.”

Amelie bent at the waist to tug her barracks box upright again. “Yes, weyrleader,” she said. “I understand.”

Fareeha nodded once, then turned on her heel to leave, pondering over their conversation as she stepped past Lacroith and pulled herself over Raptorath’s neck.

\-------------

The canvas wrapped package was almost as long as Fareeha was tall. She opened it on the edge of the sands, not wanting to warm what was inside too much. L’Tel had done an excellent job of excavating the objects the crafters had used to secure Aleksath’s load to the ground. The items looked like enormous screws with rectangular heads, perfect for tying down the platform the gold had been using to carry the technocrafter equipment. There was still some dirt in the threads. She studied them again, wondering how the crafters had obtained them. They did not seem to be of smith origin, being too finely worked for the tools she knew the smithcraft had on hand. They had to have been produced in the technocrafter hall. 

Ana set a box at her side, the smell of bubbly pies and roasted vegetables wafting from within. “You have your knife?” she asked, stepping back as Fareeha re-wrapped the screws. The weyrleader tapped the sheath with one finger, then tied the canvas wrap shut. 

“I doubt I’ll need it,” Fareeha replied. “You have yours?”

“Of course not,” Ana answered indignantly. “I have R’Hardts. It’s bigger.”

Shaking her head, Fareeha got to her feet. She slung the canvas over one shoulder and picked up the box with her other hand. “Watch the hallway. He still hasn’t shown his face.”

“And you watch your back.” Ana clasped Fareeha’s shoulder, then stepped aside to let her pass. Angela looked up from her inventory reports, offering a short wave. Fareeha answered with a nod, certain that tonight she would get quite the lecture. Her back was already complaining about all of the weight she was carrying, though she could not show it in the least. 

She left through the barricaded entrance, waiting for Ana to lock it in place behind her before she strapped her burdens to Raptorath and took off again. She was still replaying her conversation with Amelie as her dragon brought her to the heights, wondering if all of her concern was an act to conceal a secondary plan of Gabriel's. She stepped off of Raptorath onto Satya’s ledge, unloading her cargo and approaching the screen. She knocked with one hand, then rebalanced what she was carrying.

“Come in,” Satya said, much closer than Fareeha expected. She found the master crafter just around the bend from the ledge, a tablet in one hand. Swivelling mirrors were mounted on mechanical hinges on the walls, reflecting light in every direction.

On a table in the centre of the room was the weapon, taken to pieces. 

She dropped the canvas wrapped screws but had enough presence of mind to set the dinner down carefully. Her heart pounded in her throat. It looked so non threatening out of its casing, just a tangle of wires, plates and lenses, but the memories attached to it were too fresh. She stared, trying to understand its mechanisms and failing. The technocrafters machines were still well beyond her knowledge. 

“You stole it,” she murmured, taking a step away from Satya. She rested one hand on her knife, looking towards the barricaded mountain entrance. “How?”

A calamitous whirring began at the far end of the table. A flat, rectangular framework slightly larger than a fire lizard rose and turned in midair. Startled, she immediately threw her knife at it. The thing upended when it was struck, tumbling from the air to the floor and breaking roughly in two.

“I was going to show you,” Satya said reproachfully. The machine rattled and skittered in place until Satya brushed her fingers over her tablet. It stopped moving with a final twitch. The master crafter walked over to it, bending to pick the knife from the wrecked device.

“I apologize,” Fareeha said, holding out her hand. Satya set the knife on the table instead, tucking the tablet under her arm. “What was that?”

“We call them hovers,” Satya said. “They are slower than fire lizards, but more precise.”

Fareeha glanced at the weapon, letting her hand fall back to her side. “It stole the weapon for you?”

“I used it to reclaim the drill.” Satya gave the knife another offended look. “I control it.”

The machine still hadn’t moved. Fareeha took a hesitant step in its direction. “And you’ve made it unable to attack?”

Condescension radiated from Satya as she nodded. “It is inert.”

Fareeha took another step, bending over to take a good look at the thing. It looked like another heap of metal and wire, but with several circular paddles and what seemed to be four clamps akin to some of her tools. “How did it take the weapon?” She asked, stepping away from it again. 

“The drill,” Satya answered pointedly, “was unsecured. I had one of my apprentices open the door, then I was able to maneuver the hover without incident.” She paused, then her shoulders dropped. “Am I being arrested again? I am fully prepared to argue that the drill is the property of the technocrafters hall and perhaps the miners, and therefore I was reclaiming it from an unauthorized and untrained user.”

“Unauthorized?” Fareeha had intended to be in control of this conversation, but quite the opposite had ocurred. “You sent it to the lord holder.”

“I did not,” Satya’s rebuke was firm. “It was requisitioned by some of the journeymen. They submitted a proposal regarding making the passages here more uniform. Their plans were made available to you and the weyrwoman before the evacuation.”

Fareeha turned to the disassembled weapon, trying to reconcile it with what Satya claimed it was. A drill? What sort of drill operated at a distance and could tear through a dragon and her rider in an instant? “Then why did he have it?” She asked.

“I do not know,” Satya replied bluntly. “I cannot see any reason he would be granted access to it. That is what I have been trying to understand, but I have had to undo someone’s clumsy modifications first and now you’ve interrupted me again!”

Furious women seemed to be the theme of Fareeha’s day. She held up a conciliatory hand. “Satya, do you understand what he did with this, and why we keep calling it a weapon?”

“It is a drill, weyrleader!”

“He murdered a dragonrider with it,” Fareeha interrupted before the master crafter could get ranting again. “He threatened others. It may have begun as a drill, but it is a weapon now.”

“It was,” Satya said, her lips thinning. “It will be a drill again soon.”

It was quiet as Fareeha got a handle on her anger at Satya for entirely ignoring what her technology had been used for. It was the master technocrafters way, she reminded herself. Satya had always been focused. She would just have to repeat what she’d said until she was understood.

“He killed Lena.” At first it seemed as though Satya had ignored her again. Fareeha approached her, trying to meet her eyes. “He used that machine to kill Lena.”

“But it is a drill,” Satya insisted, frowning at the disassembled parts. “That is not what it is for. I gave him prods, shields, deterrents. That is more than enough. Why would he need anything lethal?” Fareeha waited as the other woman considered the machine, then pulled the tablet from under her arm and set it on the table. She plucked a cord from the mess and pushed it against the tablet. The screen illuminated, then ancient words appeared across it. Satya’s fingers danced across the glowing screen until suddenly it was filled with a moving image. 

The screen showed the side of Angela’s head, close in against her ear. The image shook, getting closer and farther from her. Fareeha leaned forward to get a better look at it, putting her hands behind her back to keep from touching the screen. The image jolted again, and when it settled, Oxtoth’s head was blurring past it. Satya did something to the picture, made it move even slower and they both watched Lena come into view. There was a slow flash of light, then Fareeha recoiled when the image returned with a detailed look at Lena’s opened throat and shoulder and Oxtoth’s scorched wing. In the next instant the dragon and rider were gone-Fareeha blinked at the momentary sight of the distant line of dragons and riders, then the picture jolted and went black.

“What...how did it remember?” She asked, clenching her own wrist. She’d known the technocrafter devices were marvellous, but this was far beyond her expectations. 

“There is a camera. It shows the operator what they are drilling into,” Satya said quietly, brushing her fingers across the image. The event began to play in reverse. Fareeha looked away. “It is like an eye. And it is attached to something like a brain.”

“Does it know what it did?” Fareeha gave the disassembled machine an accusing look. “How much does it understand?”

“Nothing. It only sees and remembers.” Satya touched the screen again. “Why was she flying so close? What was he doing with the drill?”

“Lena was trying to save Angela. He was holding your drill to a goldriders head to force us to surrender-” Fareeha cut herself off, her knuckles itching with the need to strike again. “To submit to his will.”

“Why?”

Fareeha shook her head. “I don’t know. He wants dragonriders of his own, to follow him and do as he says, but that is not what dragonriders are.”

“This drill is not a weapon either. He will try to change dragons the way he changed it,” Satya said. She studied the image on the tablet, then set it down.

“Is this how you have been communicating with him?” Fareeha picked up the tablet, ignoring the other womans flinch. She could not ignore Satya’s sudden silence. When she looked up, the master crafter had her fingers tangled in the wires, separating them gently. “Satya. He is turning your devices against us. We need your help.”

“I have given you my help. I permitted my apprentices to be Searched,” Satya said. “I understand the importance of dragonriders.” She moved one wire away from the others after freeing it, setting it straight on the table. “I have messaged him with the tablet, when communication was necessary. I am not attempting to subvert your authority, only to exercise my own.“ 

She could see that Satya was retreating already. She pried another wire away, then another, her concentration falling into the sorting. Pushing Satya the way she would push anyone else at this point would only shut down their conversation. “You can communicate with anyone who has one of these?” Fareeha prodded the tablet, dismissing the image and returning to a white and blue screen dotted with smaller, more colourful pictures. She drummed her fingers speculatively against the surface, her eyes going wide when she made contact with one of the images. 

Three new pictures dominated the tablet, ancient writing under each one. Satya gave her an answer, but Fareeha’s concentration was entirely on the glowing screen. These words she knew, or at least one of them. She tapped the image named ‘Hall’, and the screen reordered itself again into row after row of tiny images. They were numbered, most showing a view of a forest. 

“Weyrleader?”

Fareeha ignored Satya, touching a picture that showed a large, gleaming shape. It took up the whole screen, and she gaped at the still image of J’Cree and Zarya straining against the straps holding Aleksath to the ground. “What...what am I looking at?” She breathed, touching the screen again. The image flicked to the side. It showed a small group of crafters driving the screws into the ground. Satya was nowhere to be seen. “Explain this, Satya, please.” Fareeha pushed the tablet back into Satya’s hands, striding to her abandoned parcel and kicking it open. 

The other woman looked from tablet to screw and back, touching the image and manipulating it. “This is journeyman Ketal,” she said, shifting the image to focus on the only visible face. 

“It showed another picture before. Can you see that one?”

Satya flicked her fingertip over the tablet. “Oh.” She looked up at the screw again. “He is a very clever man.”

Fareeha grunted. “He-”

“It was clever, not good,” Satya snapped. At the weyrleaders startled blink, she looked back to the disassembled drill. “Just like using this to harm dragons. It would pierce both hide and armor. A despicable but strategically correct choice.”

Fareeha’s jaw worked, restraining her urge to give Satya a lecture. “Is Journeyman Ketal here?” She asked, holding out one hand for the tablet. Satya returned it. 

“He was in the fourth transfer group, the engineers.” 

Fareeha looked at the screen, studying the face of the man. He was nondescript, boring even. No surprise she didn’t know who he was. “I am going to arrest him,” she said aloud, turning the tablet in her hands. “And his companions. I will need to keep this.” She amended her authoritative tone before she continued, remembering Angela’s urgings that she be diplomatic. “You may return to the hall if you wish.”

The silence between them went on longer than Fareeha expected. When she looked at Satya again, the woman was slowly pressing her hands to the flattened, untangled wires on the table. “Is Sombra there?” She finally asked. 

“She was Searched,” Fareeha replied. “She’s with the other Candidates.”

Satya used one of her fingers to adjust the position of the wires on the table, pushing some together, separating others. “Then I will stay,” she said flatly. “Mei can maintain the hall.” There was another pause. “Thank you for bringing dinner. I will eat alone.”

Fareeha held the tablet under her arm, then stepped back. “You’re welcome. And thank you for your assistance, master crafter.”

Satya gave no reply. Fareeha offered an unseen nod, then turned to leave her be. Ketal was due in the cells.

\-------------

Fareeha strode into the infirmary, straight backed in spite of the pain that radiated through her lower body. The healers stood aside as she walked past them, one of them holding the screen aside so she could pass quickly to her destination. Zarya sat in her infirmary bed, a wing chart draped over the chair to one side of her.

“You have been busy,” the weyrwoman said as Fareeha set the chart aside and sat, holding back a grunt of pain until the screen had been closed again. 

“You heard.”

“Two fights. Two days. Is a lot, even for you.” Zarya leaned back into her pillows, turning her face to the ceiling.

“I don’t want a third.”

The weyrwoman snorted. “They would be washing you off the walls.”

Fareeha breathed deeply through her nose. The room smelled of antiseptic. She could see tension in Zarya’s face. They did not want to have this discussion, but for the sake of the dragonriders it was necessary.“So you’re ready to go back to your weyr?” 

Zarya’s broad shoulders hunched. “My arm and leg are still broken,” she said, staring upwards. “It would be hard.”

Leaning her elbows on her knees, Fareeha pulled the chair closer to the bed. “That has never stopped us from doing anything. We’re Overwatch.” The grimace she got in reply was not heartening. 

“You are, now.” Zarya stared at the ceiling and lay her hand across her stomach. “You and Angela. I am-”. She stopped when Fareeha gave an incredulous snort. “What?”

“No, say what you were going to say.”

Eyes narrowing suspiciously, she turned to look at Fareeha. The weyrleader was still leaning towards the bed, her expression set in such a familiar look of disapproval that it was hard to imagine anyone ever doubting she was Ana’s daughter. “What do you think I was going to say?” She asked slowly.

“That you were retiring. Quitting.” Fareeha’s expression dared her to give a yes. “Was that it?”

Zarya set her jaw. “Aleksath cannot fly. I am badly injured. It is expected.”

“By who?” Fareeha’s eyebrows arched. “Angela is desperate for help. Thread falls in less than a sevenday. We have finally got Lord Gabriel backed into a corner-”

“Mei.”

The muscle of her back tightened. She sat straighter in her seat. “Zarya.”

The weyrwoman’s jaw worked. “I will go to the hall. Protect it from the ground.”

Fareeha shook her head slowly. “We need you here. I won’t reassign you. I know you want to see her, but-”

Zarya gripped her shirt with her good hand and Fareeha winced at the unfamiliar weakness. “I do not follow Weyrleaders orders. Weyrleader follows mine. I have filled transport requisition, new assignment and resignation from senior rank.”

“You are abandoning us, right when we need you the most,” Fareeha accused. “I never thought you, of all of us, would do this. This is your Weyr! You made this, all of it! How can you leave it?” She tried to shove Zarya’s hand away, but even her weakened grip was unrelenting.

“I am still of Overwatch,” Zarya answered calmly. “I do what is right for the Weyr.”

“How will we fly Thread without you?”

Zarya released her. Fareeha slumped back in her seat, gritting her teeth when her injury impacted the back of the chair. “That is weyrleaders job. You are a good leader.”

They stared at one another for several breaths, the noise of the infirmary clattering on. The rest of the Weyr seemed miles away from Fareeha. She could see that Zarya had already set herself to this course. The woman was immovable as the mountain they lived in. Only with long practise was Fareeha familiar enough to see the weight of the decision in Zarya’s eyes. She’d made the wrong choice for the Weyr and the dragonriders, but at least Fareeha could tell it hadn’t been flippant. She clenched her jaw and broke the stare first, looking at the floor. “You’ll have transport tomorrow,” she said roughly, shoving herself out of her seat. Her salute was crisp as ever. “Weyrwoman.”

Zarya returned the gesture. “Be well, weyrleader,” she answered. Fareeha nodded sharply, then turned on her heel. Though she wanted to say a great many things, there were too many listening ears about. For now, this would be their path. She marched out of the infirmary, letting the pain in her back drive her on towards the hatching sands. They needed a new plan and time was running short.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI Y'ALL! How have you been? I've been very very busy! I hope everyone's doing okay and I really appreciate you reading my story! Thanks for being rad, and I hope you have a great day!

**Author's Note:**

> Hey folks! Thanks for reading, I hope everyone's ready for some fun times ahead!


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